Egoist Pandamonium
by Cerberus Revised
Summary: This series contains my collaborations with Panda. These entries will be Egoist one shots and shorts because Panda is "Egoist-centric." You won't find more "Manga-esque" JR FF than these. Panda is a master. Current stories complete. ON HIATUS in terms of adding NEW stories.
1. 1: On the Level

**Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply.**

**Rating: T or PG-13  
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**Contains: Occasional harsh language, mild adult content/situations  
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**This is another Panda collaboration. I love working with her as she gives me the structure and I get to play with the details, which suits my obsessive nature. Panda is dedicating this to a dear friend who has been struggling lately, in the hopes that a bit of Egoist fluff will be just what the Doctor ordered (especially if it is the good Dr. Kusama- heh heh). Anyway, I know this sort of fic always makes my world brighter.**

**Enjoy!**

**Cerberus  
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**On the Level**

Kusama Nowaki stared lustfully at his unsuspecting lover, Kamijou Hiroki.

He couldn't help it. During the past weeks they'd barely had a moment together and had only experienced a passing knowledge of each other: one arriving home after a tiring night shift, just as the other was hurriedly leaving for the University. They had exchanged brief kisses, Nowaki had seen to that, but that had been the limit of their interactions. Now, however, they were both finally home together and Nowaki wanted more…

Much more.

Both men were currently sitting in their living room. Nowaki was (or was supposed to be) watching whatever was on the TV, while Hiroki was engrossed in grading papers. More than paying attention to the flickering screen though, Nowaki was casting surreptitious glances at his lover, each stolen look only adding fuel to his yearning.

Nowaki was at intervals presently cataloging the various layers of his lover's adorability and what these stirred in him. _'Level one,'_ the professor was frowning, his brows were furrowed and Nowaki so longed to nuzzle out those worried wrinkles. _'Level two,' _Hiroki's ever so kissable lips occasionally twitched in displeasure at his student's incompetence and Nowaki ached to still them with his own. And 'level three,' the reading glasses that normally perched so nicely on his lover's noble nose, accentuating Hiroki's handsome features had slipped down precariously and it was all Nowaki could do to keep from plucking them off, tossing them to the side, and taking the man's lovely face in his hands (this in prelude to taking the man entirely, _'level four'_).

'_He looks so cute,'_ Nowaki thought, watching as Hiroki mumbled "Idiot!" before dealing the paper he was grading a strident notation with a quick flourish of his red pen. _'How am I supposed to hold myself back when he's right there before my eyes, effortlessly looking so sexy?_'

He sighed and tried to turn his attention back to the banal program on the television. He missed Hiro-san so much despite the fact the man was only sitting a few feet away from him.

Nowaki found himself wondering if his Hiro-san missed him too at all. On one level he knew he was being silly to have such thoughts: the older man had said as much, though such sentiment was expressed rarely. Still, on another level Nowaki couldn't help but guess sometimes about the depth of this feeling. Especially as the assistant professor, in reality, always seemed so intensely preoccupied (and complainingly content) with his ever-demanding work life, not to mention the even more demanding people surrounding him.

The young intern's face darkened as he considered two of these bothersome individuals. _'The famous author, Usami Akihiko and the genius professor, Miyagi You.' _Nowaki had always striven to keep a positive attitude, but even just thinking their names made his contemplative frown deepen. Of course he had come to terms with the roles of these men in Hiroki's life years ago. However, he couldn't help feeling jealous at times that they got to see his lover more than he did. Not to mention the numerous occasions when Hiroki would leave him, sometimes even in the middle of their "doing something" to answer one of these men's royal summons.

'_Especially Usami-san.'_

Nowaki sighed again, wondering if he thought about Usami Akihiko hard enough it might dampen his ardor so that he could leave Hiroki in peace to get his work done. He moved from contemplating levels of cuteness to levels of annoyance.

'_Level one.'_ It often made Nowaki angry that Usami-san had no qualms about asking Hiroki to proofread, edit, comment, or whatever else was necessary to his every latest manuscript _before_ he ever showed them to anyone. In fact, he still had a hard time understanding why someone as famous as the author, with all his resources, and his own professional editor still needed his precious Hiro-san.

However, though he never said as much, Nowaki knew it was a matter of great pride to Hiroki that together, he and Usami-san made novels that garnered so much admiration. _'Yes, together. Level two'_ Nowaki thought darkly.

And while he had been loath to acknowledge it, after reading one of Usami-san's novels (actually he'd read most of them as a matter of defense) Nowaki had grudgingly admitted to himself that Usami-san was a great author, _'level three.' _

'_Level four,'_ Nowaki knew that this in and of itself, disregarding Usami-san's and Hiro-san's shared past deep connection, drew Hiroki to him. Even if Hiroki no longer "loved" Usami-san, with his strong passion for literature and deep admiration for the construction of good prose, he couldn't help but still love the man's writing. And while there were many things Hiroki was reluctant to discuss deeply or openly, literature was not one of these. Hiro-san was always eager to join the award-winning author in an impassioned discussion, even if he told Nowaki later that Akihiko frustrated him endlessly.

Nowaki knew it was low of himself to harbor such ill feelings. After all, given Usami-san's literary standing, it was an honor that Hiroki was first man in Japan, or in the whole world for that matter, to read the "great" man's masterpieces. And though he hated to admit it _'level five,'_ Nowaki knew Usami-san, in his own way, was grateful for and dependent on Hiroki's assistance.

What was harder for the younger man to accept was Hiro-san knew this, but even more disconcerting, was, knowing his professor, though he would never admit it, _liked_ this… a lot. So much so, Hiroki wouldn't hesitate to stay up late at night for those manuscripts. Even putting his own health at risk at times because of exhaustion, _'level six.'_

Yet Nowaki, as perceptive as he was, understood that Usami-san's writing and Hiro-san's reading was a complex arrangement the two friends had created for each man to acknowledge the other's genius. _'Level seven:'_ something he would never intrude into, could never compete with, or be part of.

Still it was so frustrating sometimes that Usami-san seemed to lack the ability to survive a day without harassing Hiroki (especially when he was nearing a deadline). This in itself agitated Nowaki. Not to mention the novelist had no qualms about suddenly calling up in the middle of the night to solemnly announce he had finished writing and to ask Hiroki how soon they could arrange a meeting, so that Hiroki could "do his thing." Then Usami-san often hung up leaving Nowaki with Hiro-san when the professor was finally awake enough to feel angry about having their sleep disturbed.

'_On those nights we actually get to sleep together.' _Nowaki sighed again and started flipping restlessly through the channels and settling on a baseball game he really couldn't care less about. There was currently only one program he was truly interested in. Shooting another glance at Hiro-san, as the man rattled his piles of papers, it seemed clear to Nowaki that particular show might not even come on tonight. At the rate things were going, in fact, it looked as though the program had been indefinitely "cancelled."

Nowaki suddenly found himself displacing his annoyance at this by remembering other authorial intrusions as well. How many times had he and Hiro-san been out together moving amicably through the world when Usami-san had suddenly appeared honking at Hiro-san from his fancy red car? Then he would call his professorial partner over to insinuate Hiroki should leave with him or say something that would engage his lover's attention, even if Hiroki stayed with him, for the rest of the time they were together. Such occurrences always left Hiroki fretfully distracted and Nowaki seething silently.

Nowaki had hoped that with Usami-san's new-found love living under his roof, that the man would be fully occupied and would have far less time or inclination to bother Hiro-san. After all, his young lover was supposed to be cute, great with cooking, exceedingly jumpable, et cetera. Nowaki had gathered these facts from listening to Hiroki and the author yelling insults at each other and adolescently maligning each other's sexuality, which inevitably happened anytime the two were together for more than a few minutes. Whether they were talking on the phone or in person, it didn't really seem to matter.

Looking at his own lover now who had all these same qualities as Akihiko's new "boy toy" (Hiroki's words), Nowaki knew that if he had the author's life, living with Hiro-san he would never get any writing done at all.

Sneaking another look at Hiro-san, Nowaki wondered if Usami-san had to go through as many layers of resistance to get to his younger lover as he did, Usami-san himself just being the outermost edge of Hiroki's strata.

This thought drew another deep exhalation from Nowaki and the soft sound that escaped him was just shy of desperate.

Nearby Hiroki twitched. He had felt Nowaki staring at him, with all the appearance of a famished tiger watching a staked goat and he had determinedly picked up the pace of grading his lame students' blasted papers so there wouldn't be too many of them left when Nowaki decided to finally pounce him. But according to his "Kusama" clock, that should have happened ages ago (or so it seemed). Instead tonight the brat just continued sitting there across from him, too far away for Hiroki's preference, and continuously sighing.

Hiroki had enough understanding of his lover to realize these subtle exhalations were never a good sign. Hiroki knew Nowaki was holding back for him, not wanting to interfere with his work, what with the mountain of papers on the table before him. But Hiroki also found himself barely able to concentrate, waiting out each moment tensely for the next almost inaudible sound of his partner's distress.

No, Hiroki did not like the sighs at all, or the gloomy face, or the tense posture. Nowaki clearly wasn't thinking about the baseball game on the television he'd just flipped to. Hiroki could tell he also wasn't thinking about how to distract him away from his papers either. In fact, Hiroki had recognized the expression almost immediately. It was the same one Nowaki always wore whenever Akihiko called, or came over, or just said 'Hi," when they accidentally met.

'_That damn brat of mine is thinking "stupid" again.'_

Hiroki tried hard to repress the heat that was slowly rising up his cheeks. He suddenly felt even more guilty than he had previously that he had spent the early afternoon finishing up Akihiko's new manuscript. Because of this he now had to spend the rest of the evening grading, even though he'd known that Nowaki would be home that night long enough for them to talk…or do "something."

'_Well, what's stopping him..?'_ Hiroki thought irritably, the notion of "something" stirring the internal ache that had been building in him for days. He had, in fact, been rather pleasantly, if somewhat, nervously anticipating his tiger's attack and had been feeling increasingly frustrated that Nowaki just kept sitting there.

Hiroki's nerves, already frayed by the absent intellect of his students finally broke when Nowaki sighed again morosely.

"What's the matter with you?" Hiroki started, catching Nowaki by surprise.

"Eh, nothing is the matter, Hiro-san." Nowaki said looking up from the game he hadn't been watching. "Please continue your work," Nowaki feigned a smile.

'_He's always been such a terrible liar,'_ Hiroki thought.

Hiroki was beyond impatient now. He could handle many things, but Nowaki being duplicitous with him was not one of them. "Then why the hell have you staring at me like that, with that face you make?" He barked.

Nowaki blinked._ Had Hiro-san known he'd been watching?'_ Then he belatedly noted the flush on those rosy cheeks, _'Hiro-san's level one,' _which in his Hiro-san/Akihiko thought-frenzy he had failed to see before. Seeing this as his opportunity Nowaki abruptly jumped to his feet and lunged forward towards his love.

"Hiro-san…Hiro-san," he breathed the name, conveying his pent-up emotions, hands and mouth suddenly all over his lover.

"Gyaahh..Nowaki! The papers…!" Hiroki scrambled to at least save the one he was holding from being crushed between them. Others were already fluttering to the floor.

'_Layer two of my Hiro-san,'_ Nowaki thought grimly even in the midst of his fervor. He never liked this, when even with Hiroki's implied invitations he always, even if unintentionally, made him feel guilty for interfering with his work. Yet, Nowaki pressed on, determined now to strip the man bare of his layers, one way or another.

"Nowaki…" Hiroki protested, but simultaneously he tilted his head to provide Nowaki access to that delicate spot just at the juncture of his jaw and his ear that always made him shiver.

Nowaki's lips sought him there immediately.

'_Layer three.'_ This was more like it. Hiroki was now giving him permission to continue. Nowaki smiled against his lover's evening-stubbled skin, hungrily kissing whatever was offered him.

"Nowaki." This was said in half a whisper. _'Layer four: Let's go to bed… now!_' was the declaration in Hiro-san's subtle utterance. Nowaki grinned broadly and stood up, dragging Hiroki towards the bedroom, never taking his hands…or his mouth off of his beloved.

Once Nowaki had maneuvered them in and the pair were lying on the bed together, each man's fingers tripping over themselves in their frantic fumbling, Hiroki again called Nowaki's name in that special husky voice. _'Layer five: You can do whatever you want with me, Nowaki.'_

Nowaki was barely able to hold back now.

He immediately covered Hiroki's body with his own. He kissed. He sucked. He prepped. He plunged. He loved with all the desperate desire and wanton passion that had built up in him over the length of their schedule forced abstinence.

When they reached the pinnacle of their lovemaking, Hiroki murmured, "Nowaki...", hands circling around Nowaki's neck. Nowaki was overjoyed. He had reached _'layer six.'_

"I love you, Hiro-san," Nowaki murmured. This was the moment he lived for even more than the physical penetration: _'level seven,'_ when Hiroki allowed his love to enter his heart as well. Here Nowaki could offer this expression with such happiness, knowing his words would be accepted not growled at or called "stupid." Proving this, he was rewarded when his declaration resulted in that special shade of blush that filled Hiroki's already flushed face: it was a color that only Nowaki knew.

At first Hiroki said nothing, this was his usual manner. Then remembering the "Akihiko expression" on his younger lover's face earlier, Hiroki made a bold decision. Nowaki was always so worried about not measuring up, not being equal. Hiroki wanted in this moment for the younger man to know where he stood. Hiroki shuddered, slightly nervous, pulled Nowaki closer and kissed him hard. "I love you too." That was '_Nowaki's level one.'_

'Level two,' Nowaki got to see when they broke apart, the calm and earnest expression on his lover's face. Hiroki's dark eyes shone with gentle emotion, his breaths came in and out in soft pants as if saying this for the professor was the true exertion.

Hiroki's lips parted to repeat his declaration. "You are the only one who holds my heart, Nowaki, the one that occupies my mind. You are the only one I miss. No one else." Though the older man resumed his silence, every ounce of his being continued to utter this unspoken, knowing Nowaki understood.

After several quiet minutes passed, Hiroki rolled on to his side, offering Nowaki his back, 'level three.' Nowaki knew this was not a rejection but rather a request. Nowaki slid over and gathered the man in his arms embracing him from behind, fitting himself perfectly against the contours of Hiroki's lean body. He felt Hiro-san press back into his natural heat as he nestled his dark head over his lover's: _'level four.'_

'_Level five,'_ Hiroki could feel Nowaki's body buzzing with happiness. The older man felt this ramp up when he exhaled a sigh of his own just for his giant: one of complete contentment.

Though Hiroki knew Nowaki was sleepy, he could feel this lover struggling to remain conscious. The professor guessed Nowaki would want to stay awake until he drifted off, knowing that he only slept peacefully when they were both together in their bed. 'Level six' Hiroki feigned sleep and chose not to reprimand Nowaki for watching him.

Nowaki raised his head slightly to look down at his drifting partner. He so loved watching Hiro-san sleep. He was still marveling at the gift of his lover's words. Considering these, it suddenly all came to him. Those times recently when instead of running when Usami-san had called up and leaving him, Hiroki had thrown his phone to the closet and locked it. Nowaki now recalled just two weeks ago, they had been heading back from Pandasan when Usami-san had pulled up beside them up on the street. Hiroki had turned and yelled "Get lost!" Then he'd grabbed Nowaki's wrist hurrying them home. The two of them had actually collapsed in the entry laughing so hard at the expression on Usami-san's stunned face.

And then there was this afternoon, when he was fixing dinner and Usami-san had come by to pick up his latest manuscript. Hiroki thought Nowaki was too busy with his vegetable chopping in the kitchen to overhear him say "No, I'm not taking those articles from you tonight… You've already screwed my grading schedule today. Besides, that's what you have Aikawa for supposedly, right? Now leave me alone and don't even think about trying to call me tonight or the next time I see you, I'll kill you!"

Nowaki understood now that Hiroki really wasn't worried about having his grading time disturbed… in fact he'd wanted to be interrupted, but not to read another Usami production, rather he desired to share a 'private' moment with him.

Nowaki inhaled deeply and this time his sigh was peaceful. He had been being incredibly silly again. He didn't need to compare himself against Usami Akihiko, there was no comparison to be made: Hiro-san loved him.

'I love you, Hiro-san." Nowaki whispered lying his head back down and snuggling in. In his arms Hiroki smiled, feeling Nowaki truly settle behind him and knowing that they'd just reached Nowaki's 'level seven."

With this both men gave in to a blissful slumber, each folded into the other, knowing in this moment everything was completely as it should be, hearts in balance, everything with the other completely _'on the level.'_

** X**

**As Always, I would love to hear from you and so would da Bear! **


	2. 2: The Dark and The Sweet

**Dear Readers,**

**If you got the e-mails for this piece earlier I tried to post it under Cerberus and then under Don't Preach, but the FF site was acting up. My apologies for spamming your in boxes if you have me on alert.**

**I put this in "A Thousand Words" yesterday, but then we just finished another collaboration and I decided to put these in one place. I am hoping that by doing this Panda will keep working with me as it is great fun and I like her style. **

**So, the dear Bear sent it to me a bit ago for a special occasion all but completely written. I just added a bit of humble to polish it here and there. I hope you think it sparkles as much as I did. Please leave dear Panda Sensei a review and encourage her. I'd love to see her one day have the confidence to publish things for herself and get the recognition she so definitely deserves.**

**So, Panda said this fic came about in response to and appreciation of Chappy-the-Bunny's "The Child Who No One Wanted."**

**The Dark and the Sweet**

** X**

"_I don't like chocolate,_

_I don't like sweet,_

_But if you give me one, I will keep it,_

_And with it I will never part."_

_- Kusama Nowaki, Class 2B_

Hiroki stared at the little piece of paper, yellowed with age. His brows were drawn to the middle of his forehead in their typical furrow, but at the moment this wasn't out of anger or irritation.

The poem was undoubtedly simple and indeed Hiroki had been privileged over the course of his literary wanderings to read far better ones. Yet the simplicity, the innocence, and, if Hiroki was completely honest, the painfully silent longing hidden behind those few words tugged his heart. It resonated with his soul.

X

Weeks ago, Nowaki had told Hiroki of his plan to visit the Kusama Orphanage, something he did on a regular basis, only this time he'd asked if the older man would like to come along. By "asking" this meant Nowaki had uttered the question with the most perfect balance of hesitation and hope in his voice and on his sweet face. As if Hiroki had any chance to refuse _that_.

Though initially the professor had said a simple "no thank you," later on Hiroki had decided that it really was about time for him to meet Director Kusama in person. He had spoken to the man on the phone several times now after all, and the older gentleman seemed quite open and friendly. Besides, it would make Nowaki ridiculously happy which was reasonable enough justification for his precarious ego and his concerns about how Nowaki's benefactor might perceive his and the giant's "relationship."

So here he was now, in the small Kusama Orphanage "library." The Director had invited him there after seeing Hiroki merely standing around while he watched Nowaki play with the children.

X

When he and Nowaki had first arrived the Director was waiting for them on the steps of the home. Hiroki figured Nowaki must have called the man just before they left the apartment to catch the cab he'd called, alerting the elder Kusama to the fact they were on their way.

Nowaki took great pains to see that the two important men in his life were properly introduced. And while the younger man had simply referred to him as "Kamijou Hiroki-san", Hiroki saw a gleam of understanding in the Director's eyes when he straightened up from his bow.

Seeing this Hiroki instinctively stiffened anticipating the older man's reaction.

"It's very nice to finally meet you, Kamijou-kun, after all this time," the Director said with a smile.

"_Genuine_," Hiroki decided in an instant. "The pleasure is mine, Kusama-san. Please excuse the intrusion," he responded politely.

"Oh..no, no, no... it's certainly no intrusion. And you brought so many things with you. Thank you very much." The Director bowed appreciatively while Nowaki was readying to carry the boxes of toys, confectionery and books he'd unpacked from the car into the man's office.

They were interrupted in the midst of this exchange by a painful shriek from the yard. The Director nodded to Hiroki, "Please excuse me, Kamijou-kun," his smile didn't falter. Hiroki nodded and followed the older man with his eyes as he ambled down the steps with an easy stride towards the play area.

There Hiroki noticed two boys (aged six, or so he assumed), who had apparently taken a liking to a ragged doll held by a little girl. They were playfully, or maybe not, tugging the toy away from the girl. One of them then held the little girl around the waist while the other boy was trying to pull the doll away from her by its hand. The small female was fighting back, clinging to her dolly with all her might.

When the Director approached the party, the boys quickly released their respective grasps. The elder Kusama knelt before the boys and talked to them in a low voice. The girl crouched on the ground, crying hysterically and holding her poor, nearly abducted "baby," close to her chest. Hiroki wasn't surprised to turn and see that Nowaki was no longer beside him and that an instant later the little girl was caught up in a comforting hug by a very familiar tall figure.

Rather than join the rescue, Hiroki stood there, arms folded, watching the end of the commotion with bemused interest.

The boys had been quick to apologize under the director's stern yet gentle reprimand. In Nowaki's protective arms the bawling girl's sobs quickly turned to mere hiccups, then her teary eyes turned shiny.

Hiroki grimaced at the emotion and the roughness of the whole scenario. He couldn't imagine how often such scenes must play out here and found himself wondering if the outcome was always so benign. Then he thought about his dear Nowaki growing up in this environment. Despite the warmth of the afternoon he was taken with a sudden shiver.

Once the three children made their peace, they quickly joined forces, clamoring for Nowaki to play with them. Then more children suddenly showed up, Nowaki's appearance drawing them from every corner of the play yard. The next thing Hiroki knew was all children were casting their twinkling eyes on his giant.

Nowaki flashed him an apologetic smile from across the yard and Hiroki frowned in response. To be honest though, this was nothing he hadn't already expected.

It was then the Director seemed to magically reappear at Hiroki's side, asking him if he would want to take a look at their modest library. Though really, Hiroki wanted to stay and watch, he sensed that something was up, so he followed the man.

Much to his surprise, Hiroki found the library was... adequate, though he did make a note to go through his books at home later and see if he had anything that might make an acceptable addition to their collection.

Aside from displays of children books, magazines, and newspapers, the library also collected arts and crafts and held the accomplishments made by the Kusama children. Despite the cramped space of the library, each section of the children's activities was nicely organized for easy finding and handling. One wall next to the door was covered with children's pictures, and the one next to it with greeting cards: birthday, get-well-soon, New Year, Christmas and some simply "I love you, father and mother" written in barely readable hiragana.

The back wall had a "Wall of Fame" banner plastered up high, close to the ceiling, which hosted pictures of a number of children on sport events, plays, traditional dances and other club activities. Some trophies, medals, and a variety of ribbons sat on and were pinned around a small shelf nearby. The wall also had newspaper strips, articles and other forms of writing. Amidst those pieces of paper, some of which, from their discoloration, had obviously been done some time ago was Nowaki's poem.

X

Standing in the library now, thinking back, Hiroki amusedly wondered if the Director's bringing him here hadn't been intentional.

Suddenly realizing that the older man was no longer beside him giving the tour, disappearing as quickly as he appeared, Hiroki carefully untacked the paper from the wall and went and sat on the worn out rug in the center of the room. He studied the fragile parchment intently, turning it to every angle possible, committing to his memory the faint dusty scent of aged pages, familiar and special.

Then he stared at the handwriting. The strokes must have been made slowly but even here one could see certainty: Nowaki's even, purposeful intent and dedication to mastering whatever was set before him. Hiroki's heart ached at the thought of what little Nowaki had had in mind when writing this. He then looked up and swept his glance around the room. This had been Nowaki's world.

Hiroki inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, his heart heavy. He then looked back to the poem, tears were threatening to make their appearance at the corners of his eyes.

"You like that poem?" A gentle voice asked.

Startled, Hiroki looked up and immediately got to his feet at the Director's re-entry to the room, not wanting to seem disrespectful in any way to Nowaki's benefactor. _"Father,"_ Hiroki thought to himself, by bearing if not by blood. "Ah, it's…nice," Hiroki answered lamely.

The older man smiled and moved to a nearby cupboard. He opened a glass window and rummaged in the shelf then pulled out a thick book, which suspiciously looked like a photo album. Hiroki braced himself for what was coming.

The elder Kusama walked to Hiroki and sat on the rug, motioning for the professor to sit down too. Hiroki obliged. The man opened the album confirming Hiroki's suspicions the moment he saw all the photographs and after several pages, the Director turned the album to Hiroki and pointed to a small picture.

A little boy with clear, dark eyes, more black than blue, stared at Hiroki.

Hiroki immediately knew who the boy was. However, he was appalled at the stark difference between the boy in the picture and the grown-up version he had come to know… and love.

"This is Nowaki. He was six." The Director's voice cut through Hiroki's hazy mind. Hiroki looked up and saw the older man smiling solemnly. "_So that's where Nowaki got his smiling tendencies_," Hiroki thought.

"He was a very nice child. Always took care of the littler ones, helped the older. He was warm and kind to everyone. He was also good at school." The warmth and affection in the Director's voice and eyes were unmistakable. Hiroki's heart clenched.

"He was so good I sometimes thought of legally adopting him myself. It has been a nagging feeling of mine if he was never adopted because of my foolish musing, that I held on to him some way unjustly." The Director's voice lowered at the last part. Hiroki wanted to say something to comfort the man, but couldn't find anything suitable and so he kept silent. The elder Kusama didn't seem to mind and continued.

"He always had this calm face unbefitting his age. He never complained... About anything. I suppose it is inevitable that eventually bottling up all those things would get to him… And they did. One day the volcano finally erupted.

"It only happened once, but that one time, Nowaki got very angry at a classmate for something the boy said. Though he would never tell anyone what. Regardless of what it was that set him off he beat the other boy soundly.

"Afterwards Nowaki was so confused, angry and upset, that he ran away from here. We looked for him frantically for hours. Then we got a call from a police station in another district. Nowaki was there. How he managed to get all that way on that rickety bike he had at the time, I couldn't imagine. We were so relieved to find him, my wife and I went to get him and we all traveled home together."

The Director heaved a deep sigh. "Nowaki was changed after that incident. The next day he still had the same calm face, was still very kind, but he was also different. He smiled a lot more often. He said there was a boy he met on his journey who told him to tighten his fists and bravely face obstacles for his own sake, that he mustn't cry. So he decided to face the world with smile. It was nice. But sometimes… sometimes he smiled when kids his age were supposed to cry or get angry. Sometimes… he acted so adult-like we forgot that he was still a child."

The elder Kusama caressed the young face behind the plastic sheet. "This picture was taken before that day, and that poem," his nodded to the paper that was still in Hiroki's hand, "was written about a year later."

Hiroki mentally pictured what a six year-old Nowaki had thought or felt during this time frame. He grimaced inwardly.

"But Nowaki now is…" The Director stopped and looked at Hiroki intently. Both men locked gazes. Hiroki could feel his cheeks slowly heating up and dropped his head unable to bear the intensity of the other's eyes.

"You looked surprised when you saw the picture… why is that, Kamijou-kun?" The older man asked kindly. Hiroki was startled by the directness of the question. It seemed like the Director had passed more than his smiling habits on to Nowaki.

"Uh…" Hiroki looked back to the picture. He had an answer but to say it out loud was another story.

The Director smiled seeing the younger man's discomfort. He had heard quite a lot about Nowaki's "Hiro-san" from his favorite ward and had spoken to him directly several times on the phone. Meeting the younger man in person, the elder Kusama had felt both happy and apprehensive. But he soon realized that he didn't have any reason for the latter when he saw Kamijou-kun quickly scanning the library walls moments after they'd entered it. Kamijou-kun was searching… and when he found what it was he was looking for, he'd taken it and held it reverently.

"Nowaki's eyes are different now." The Director said, a secret amusement evident in his tone. Hiroki looked at the older man, silently thankful that he'd been spared from the embarrassment of explanation.

"What used to be calm and dark pools are now fiery and lively. They sparkle like crystals. Those eyes see the world with a new wonder. He still smiles a lot too, but now he smiles with his whole body, especially when I saw him earlier today… with you." Hiroki blushed at the elder Kusama's meaningful look.

Then the older man's face turned serious. "Kamijou-kun, our Nowaki is a humble orphan. He's young and still has a lot to learn and might falter in his step sometimes. That is why I am asking you, please take care of him." The Director's grey head dipped as he offered his petition.

Hiroki was astounded.

A part of him wanted to quickly refute the request, dissolving any false illusions the older man might be having that somehow someone as flawed as he was could accept such an awesome responsibility. But another part of him, bigger and deeper, yearned to answer the calling, and before he knew it, Hiroki bowed his head and said simply, "I will do my best."

Both men seemed surprised at Hiroki's reply and raised their heads at the same time. The Director looked deeply to Hiroki's eyes, searching for any signs of dishonesty. Hiroki was blushing to the roots of his hair, but he met the older man's eyes without waver. Then they both smiled, coming to a mutual understanding.

"Please keep the poem, Kamijou-kun. You can also have the picture. It's the only one we have of Nowaki as most of our records were lost to a fire a few years ago." Hiroki could hear the slight tremble in the calm voice.

"Ah, it's fine, Kusama-san. We… uh… Nowaki can make new pictures. Lots of them." Hiroki recalled Nowaki and his incessant use of his new digital camera, his last birthday gift to the giant.

The Director visibly sighed in relief. "Keep the poem then. Take it as a souvenir."

Hiroki didn't need the paper to remember what was written on it, but that slip of parchment was a silent witness to Nowaki's past and Hiroki definitely had never been able to refuse a piece of literature, or so he convinced himself.

"Alright. Thank you very much, Kusama-san." Hiroki frowned thinking how he was going to take it home without folding the delicate paper.

"This is a very good book. Have you read it?" The elder Kusama held out another book which he'd pulled out along with the album earlier, though Hiroki had failed to notice it: it was apparently yet another manifestation of the older man's magic.

"No, I haven't read it. Thank you," He winced a bit internally at this untruth, as it was a text he was indeed familiar with. "I'll return it as soon as possible." Hiroki blushed yet again as he carefully slipped the poem amidst the pages, breathing easier somehow, knowing this bit of Nowaki was now protected. _How much does he know me?_ Hiroki thought grimly, dismayed for being somehow so transparent.

"Ah, don't worry. It's in English and no one here has read it since Nowaki left. He was always and still is our best English student. Perhaps you can make a better use of it."

"Thank you." Hiroki took a look at the book's title again: it was Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_. He frowned. _"No wonder the goof was such a sap."_

"Now if you will please excuse me, Kamijou-kun. I have some paper to get to. You know an administrator's work is never done." He sighed regretfully. The Director nodded, his head making a sweep of the room. "Please feel free to use the library though. The children rarely come here at this time of day. I will tell Nowaki that you're here." Both men stood up and after a quick exchange of bows the older man turned and left the room.

Hiroki had wanted to leave too, but after the intensity of their intimate talk he needed some time to pull himself together. The childhood story the elder Kusama had disclosed stirred a disturbing feeling in his memory, but Hiroki decided he would return to this later.

For now, he cracked the book he was holding in his hand open and stared again at the paper allowing the words there to seep deeper into him. He wondered if he was imagining things but if he looked at it from a certain perspective, the poem almost seemed like a premonition.

Of course he would never admit it to anyone, but held safe in the containment of his own thoughts he was forced to admit why the poem so affected him, much to his utter embarrassment.

"I don't like chocolate, I don't like sweet, But if you give me one,…" Hiroki was horror-struck to hear the lines recited by the writer himself, mere inches from his sensitive ear.

"No… Nowaki…wh…what are you doing?" Hiroki quickly tried to close the book to hide the paper, but Nowaki was faster. The doctor held Hiroki's hand and despite Hiroki's struggles, kept it in place.

"Hiro-san, that's my poem. I wrote it a long time ago. Where did you find it?" Nowaki frowned.

"Wha… what are you talking about? This… this is… nothing…." Hiroki stuttered. He cursed himself when he turned his body to face the other man only to see Nowaki's rare frown had deepened.

"No… what I mean is… well, Kusama-san showed me this and I just read it. Anyway, what do you mean you don't like chocolates, you asked for them last Valentines Day?" Hiroki's crimson face turned into a deeper shade of red as he posed the question.

Nowaki blinked. The sun was setting low and its orange glow peeked through the window right behind Hiroki, making his professor's rich brown hair shine like gold.

"Ah, Hiro-san, I didn't know at that time that certain kinds of chocolates are so lovely. I think I must revise the poem." Nowaki stepped closer to Hiroki.

"I love chocolate," Nowaki said slowly while his hands softly caressed his professor's dark brown locks. Hiroki's breath hitched.

"I love sweet," Nowaki's hands moved to cup Hiroki's face, holding his beloved's sweet gaze. Hiroki wasn't sure he was still breathing.

"When I get one, I will keep it." One of Nowaki's hands slid to Hiroki's waist and pulled Hiroki closer. "_Okay, I need to breathe_!" Hiroki's mind screamed.

"And with it I will never part." Nowaki kissed Hiroki's lips ever so softly. It was loving, gentle, and full of promises.

"_I knew it!"_

That was Hiroki's last rational thoughts right before he returned Nowaki's kiss with equal measure.

When their lips parted, neither man moved away. For what seemed like eternity, they simply looked at each other, sharing more than words could express.

Then Hiroki felt a new wave of heat fill his already furiously blushing cheeks and looked away. "Stupid," he murmured, with no malice. He was too overcome with all the emotion of both the afternoon and this moment to push Nowaki away or chide him for his semi-public display of affection.

Nowaki smiled and held him tighter.

X

"_I hate dark, I hate black,_

_Dark is unknown, black is death,_

_Both are inexplicable, both inevitable,_

_When both embrace me, will I find_

_Comfort_

_And peace_

_I wonder... "_

_- Kamijou Hiroki, Class 6A_

"_I used to hate darkness with all my might,_

_As in it I could not see a thing,_

_Until I found a darkness so bright,_

_That in it is my every thing."_

"_Black did not escape my wrath,_

_Black made me frown and pout,_

_Yet the black on my current path,_

_Is the one black I cannot live without."_

_- Kamijou Hiroki, M University_

_** X**_

**So here are some of Panda's notes on the story. I am adding these from our correspondence so you can hopefully appreciate, as I do the stunning intention and meticulous nature she applies to her writing:**

**About the Director/Hiroki interaction:** The director is older than Hiroki so technically he is "higher" than Hiroki and Hiroki must be respectful to him. However, I wanted the director to know already that Hiroki comes from a higher status family (from Nowaki's stories) and so the director is somehow expected to pay a proper respect to this "Young Master". The director is not really Nowaki's father, so he doesn't hold the privilege of playing father. He may have some things to say, but he is not in the position to say them. He can be courteous, but not dominant, at least not in an aggressive way. That is why he is holding back, until he is sure that Hiroki is 'willing' to listen to him.

As much as I love a quiet Hiroki, I didn't make him so here because of this reason. Basing from Hiroki's encounter with the elders in the park, Hiroki seems to naturally lower himself in front of elders. He doesn't seem to flaunt his 'regal' status and expect people, young or old, to respect him more than common courtesy. And common courtesy dictates that in some formal occasions, the young doesn't speak unless spoken to (notice that they both sit on the floor face to face). This is why he doesn't say much to the director.

The director directly asks "You like that poem?", indicating that he knows exactly what is holding Hiroki's attention. This is fundamental in that the director is certain of Hiroki's feelings and seeing how serious Hiroki is reading (or deeply affected) and only then does he 'talk'.

So the first half of their meeting, both the director and Hiroki are being cautious. I'd like to see it as some sort of a 'hidden' test. Hiroki finding the poem and his reaction to it is the key to the interaction. If Hiroki 'fails', the director might not say anything at all.

**The Director asking Hiroki to take care of Nowaki**: This is commonly uttered by the "girl's" family or that of lower in status. I hesitated at first between "That is why.." and "But…" It shows how much the person saying it lowers themselves in front of the other. I decided on the first because I wanted the director to trust Hiroki enough for him to show some sort of fatherly affection to Nowaki, while at the same time maintaining his dignity.

Hiroki's response in Japanese should simply be "Hai.", which means "Yes, I will." But I chose to have it "Gambarimasu.", which means "I will do my best." to show that Hiroki is still struggling but is taking the request seriously. Thus the proceeding surprise and the eye lock.

**Other Details:**

*"When he and Nowaki had first arrived the Director was waiting for them on the steps of the home. Hiroki figured Nowaki must have called the man just before they left the apartment to catch the cab he'd called, alerting the elder Kusama to the fact they were on their way."

Cab fares in Tokyo are very expensive. This indicates that the visit is quite a "party", and the gifts they have with them highlight this even more. So it's reasonable that the director awaits them. (Plus, it's Nowaki, the director's favorite ward.)

*"…the little girl was caught up in a comforting hug by a very familiar tall figure."

This means the girl knows Nowaki already and vice versa, showing he is a regular presence at the orphanage. If not, the girl wouldn't likely allow herself to be hugged and Nowaki wouldn't hug her in the first place. He may pat her on the shoulder/head, hold her hand…but not hug.

*About Hiroki's poems: I know it should be more sophisticated, but I'm not good with big words, so they are what they are.

- Panda -

**Thanks for reading and please consider dropping us a note.**

**Sincerely,**

**Cerberus**


	3. 3: Tastes like a Dream: Chapter I

**Hi…. So here is another Panda collaboration. I know you may be wanting me to go back and update my serials, but my life has been crap lately and so I have not been feeling particularly inspired. This said it has been nice resting on the back of the fuzzy Panda, just like a black and white Suzuki-san. Anyway, as I said before, she provides the bones and I flesh them out.**

**Panda likes to come up with her ideas as a response to other fine FF's she's read. So this is based on Faye-Naruse's "The Icing on the Cake." It will be a Two Chapter piece with an extra omake chapter.**

**Hope you find it satisfies your sweet tooth… Enjoy **

**Tastes Like a Dream**

**Chapter one: Daydreams and Nightmares**

For Hiroki this instant was about as perfect as a moment could get. Or at least it was as perfect as a moment could get without Nowaki in it.

The professor was sitting in a comfortable booth at a quiet café not far from campus on a lovely spring afternoon. Miyagi was away presenting at a conference, so he'd had the office to himself for two days and without his senior's distractions he had finished grading the last of his student's midterm work that morning.

This completed, his afternoon found him with no scheduled classes, a new novel by a rising Japanese American author he'd recently begun following, and a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. To top it all off, Nowaki didn't have the nightshift and as Hiroki looked casually at his watch, his giant would be joining him in about ten minutes.

The professor glanced at the lovely single-serving sized cake (a specialty of the shop) sitting next to his half-finished cup of java. He had ordered it for himself, but then as he was feeling in such a pleasant mood he had decided to wait for Nowaki's arrival so they could share it. He knew how pleased that would make his big goof of a partner, doing something so sappy. He was also aware that it would no doubt lead to a rousing round of "happy giant" sex later, which was always nothing short of splendid.

Hiroki exhaled a soft sigh of contentment. If only all of life could be so harmonious.

The professor picked up his book and read a few more pages, appreciating the beautifully crafted English prose as much as he anticipated savoring the shared desert, and the other "shared dessert" after that. He lifted his eyes from the text and was about to release another peaceful exhale, but the sight that met him through the glass stopped his breath as it rose in his throat and shifted it from a sound of bliss into one of irritation.

On the other side of the window a keen pair of lavender eyes met his. It was obvious Akihiko had been standing there observing him for some minutes.

_How in the hell does he always seem to know how to find me? I swear the man has me bugged somehow for tracking._

Standing outside looking in, Akihiko's facial expression didn't change, but his eyes held a glint of amusement as if he could read his friend's thoughts. Hiroki groaned internally when he saw the man was carrying a leather case.

_That only means one thing... Damn it!_

Hiroki scowled as Akihiko's brows rose in silent petition, awaiting the other man's invitation.

After another moment Hiroki rolled his eyes. He set his novel down on the table and nodded.

Akihiko's mouth gave the barest of twitches indicating his pleasure at his victory and moved with his usual slow grace into the shop.

He stopped at the edge of the table. Hiroki had leaned forward slightly to greet him. "Hiroki." The author nodded. "It seems like it's been ages since I've seen you."

Hiroki returned the greeting. As he settled back in his seat he mumbled, "Yes, at least since your last deadline anyways."

Akihiko nodded at the waitress who had instantly appeared at the booth to take the author's order. He requested a cup of tea. "So funny you should mention deadlines, old man…" The author let the unasked request hang in the air between them.

Just as Hiroki was bracing himself for Akihiko's response to his impending "No!" His phone vibrated in his pocket. The professor knew what he would encounter before he even took it out and looked at the screen. "Uh, excuse me, Akihiko, I need to take this," he muttered.

Flipping his phone open, just as he expected, it was Nowaki telling him there'd been an emergency and he was running late. Hiroki closed his phone with a sigh and looked across the table at the author's satisfied smirk.

_That man has the luck of the devil. If I didn't know better I'd think he'd planned this all out."_

Hiroki switched off his phone with annoyance and extended his hand. "Give it here," he growled.

His brow furrowed watching Akihiko's lips twitch subtly again in satisfaction as he reached into his satchel and withdrew a sheaf of papers. "It's a novella, you should burn through this in no time, Hiroki," Akihiko purred.

Hiroki snorted at this as he took the offered story. He held the papers in front of his face blocking the author's view of his expression, not wanting to truly display his annoyance or even more so his disappointment at Nowaki's delayed arrival. Around the pages he eyed what had been his oven-warm cake, growing cooler with every passing second._ That's what you get for allowing yourself to wax so sappy Kamijou._

"Oh hush," Hiroki mumbled behind his literary blind.

"What was that old man?" Akihiko said taking his tea from the waitress who'd just set a small tray before him.

"Nothing," Hiroki gruffed. "Just be quiet and drink your tea so I can concentrate.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Hiroki had been reading for half an hour as Akihiko sat idly by, his long legs stretched out looking the perfect picture of a gentleman of leisure. He was working on his third cup of tea when his phone rang.

Hiroki peered over the pages and lifted an eyebrow at the queer music chiming.

Akihiko sighed. "It's the theme from that new animated series 'The Kan.' My tenant has decided it's amusing to change my ringtone when I'm not looking," he drawled. But rather than be too irritated, instead a true smile flickered on his lips for just a moment as he considered what would be a suitable "punishment" for Misaki's shenanigans later.

As the author flipped his phone open his face took on a particular expression that Hiroki knew was now reserved only for the man's "tenant." Though he'd seen that look often enough before when Takahiro used to call. While it no longer made his heart ache the way it once had, Hiroki ducked back down behind the manuscript finding the story on the page currently far more engaging.

After typing in a reply, Akihiko set his phone on the table. About ten minutes later the door to the café opened and a brown haired youth tripped in. "Usagi-san!" Misaki greeted cheerfully not even noticing the professor. "Wahhhh!" the young man exclaimed as his culinary eye was caught by all the artfully dressed pastries displayed behind the glass counter. "I've never been in here before. Wow those sweets all look amazing!"

Seeing Misaki, Akihiko's own sweet tooth was suddenly engaged. "You can finish that and I'll pick it tomorrow, right, Hiroki?" Akihiko said, his lavender eyes already devouring his confection entranced lover and personal eye candy.

"Ummmm," Hiroki said noncommittally, rattling the pages. He was not willing to just let Akihiko take flight after the man had interrupted his perfect afternoon.

Having examined all the tiny cakes at the counter, Misaki wandered back over to the table. Spying Hiroki's small treat sitting next to the author's teacup, the youth's cheeks took on a slight blush. "Whoaa, Usagi-san that looks delicious. But I thought you didn't like sweets?"

Hearing this Akihiko realized that the boy had mistakenly thought the cake was his and in his very polite, non-intrusive Misaki way was asking if his older lover had bought it for him.

"Ah, that one isn't for our consumption, but if my Misaki wants cake he shall have it!" Akihiko said regally, ignoring the fact his words made both brunets present blush viciously.

"Miss!" Akihiko called.

"No! Usagi-san!" Misaki protested vehemently.

Ignoring the boy's protests, Akihiko nodded to the display case, "I'll take everything on the second shelf there. Would you please be so kind as to bring it to the table?"

Both the waitress and Misaki's eyes grew huge. Behind the manuscript Hiroki rolled his eyes and grimaced at his friend's extravagance.

"Pull up a chair; you have some sweets to eat, Misaki!" Akihiko murmured licking his own lips at the thought what frostinged kisses would taste like later when he had the boy in the car. As the desserts started to arrive at the table, Misaki sat down overwhelmed at the abundance.

"Tuck in, Misaki," Akihiko urged, his purple orbs glowing with pleasure.

Misaki gazed at all the glazed beauty before him. He uttered a quick blessing and pulled a bite from one of the carefully crafted cakes.

"MMMMMMmmm" the boy hummed happily, quickly taking another. They tasted as good as they looked. He had his fork to his mouth again, before his first bite had even been swallowed.

Hiroki peered over the edge of the novella and his mouth quirked at the display of teenage gluttony being performed before him.

"Don't eat too fast, Takahashi. You might choke yourself, and you have an essay due tomorrow. You can't turn it in if you're dead," Hiroki chided, but his voice was low and his tone laced with gruff amusement.

It took Misaki a moment to recognize the voice behind the pages as it wasn't configured in its usual heated growl. Then Hiroki lowered the manuscript just enough for his fierce dark eyes to be visible.

"Kamijou-sensei!" Misaki barked in shock at seeing his most feared professor sitting there before him. He blushed dark red with embarrassment for not paying attention and on top of this immediately began choking.

"See, what did I tell you, Takahashi?" Hiroki said mildly sinking back behind the papers, ignoring the boy's distress and feeling only slightly guilty.

"Oi, Kamijou." Akihiko murmured his soft voice mildly disapproving; he only ventured this as Misaki was too busy coughing to notice.

Mildly intrigued by the author's tone, Hiroki flipped a corner down only to see Akihiko gently patting Misaki's thin shoulders with one hand as his other reached for his unfinished tea.

"Here, Misaki, drink this," Akihiko urged kindly.

"Thank you Usagi-san," Misaki gasped, though his hoarse voice was weak, his eyes were truly grateful.

"Are you alright now, Mi-chan?" he inquired. Akihiko's hand on the boy's back had gone from light pats to soothing circles. The teen nodded weakly.

As a red faced Misaki sipped the tea, Hiroki observed the author's cool hand reach up and gently stroke the boy's cheek, where the tears from his watering eyes had left a wet trail.

It had been a long time since Hiroki had witnessed the man be this tender, and never so openly. Despite his annoyance at the author's accusation, Hiroki felt a gentle and unexpected warmth fill his chest at the thought Akihiko might have at last found a place to invest his affection that might yield a decent return.

Then Akihiko leaned in, "maybe I should take you home now? Then you can finish eating your sweets there and then I can start eating my sweet Misaki."

These words just set the youth choking again.

Uncomfortable witnessing this exchange the professor ducked back down again, to hide his pinking cheeks. _And here I thought you were being so kind, you're just as big a pervert as ever, Usami._

"How in the hell am I supposed to finish this with all your commotion?" Hiroki grumbled to cover his embarrassment (and Misaki's).

However, no sooner had he uttered this than the bell on the door chimed and two more men entered the store. Recognizing the pair's obnoxious banter immediately, Hiroki gave a slight groan, knowing the real commotion was just about to start.

**X X X X X X X X X X X X X X **

**Thanks for reading and please review!**


	4. 3: Tastes like a Dream: Chapter II

**Tastes like a Dream II**

**Rude Awakenings**

Hiroki raised the papers he was holding as though they were a shield, hoping this would keep him from being seen by the shop's newest customers. However, it was clear now that the brief run of luck he'd experienced earlier that afternoon had ended: he was sure that Miyagi had spotted him.

Peering around Akihiko's document, Hiroki saw Miyagi glance nervously at Shinobu who was still talking and then back over at him. Hiroki ducked back down, but it was too late.

Now certain that his junior had seen him as well, Miyagi drew himself up and with forced nonchalance ambled over to the table.

"Kamijou, what a nice surprise to find you here of all places," Miyagi rumbled pleasantly, ignoring the slight blush that had crept into his own cheeks at being caught off campus with the Dean's son. Behind him Shinobu now stood silent and frowning.

Miyagi nodded to Akihiko and Misaki. "Usami-sensei," Miyagi offered a respectful bow, "I apologize if I am interrupting anything important."

Akihiko rose and offered the scholar a bow of his own, Misaki scrambled to join him. "Ah no, Miyagi-sensei," Akihiko greeted back, "It's always a pleasure to see you." Then glancing to his side the author murmured, "May I introduce you to my tenant, Takahashi Misaki?"

Misaki bowed nervously, "Professor Miyagi, it's an honor, my senpai, Sumi Keiichi, is in your seminar and always says what an excellent teacher you are. I had hoped to get in to your classical and contemporary graphic narratives class next semester. Though uh… I have been told it might be a bit advanced for me."

_That's an understatement,_ Hiroki thought still hiding behind the manuscript, as he reflected on a few of Misaki's papers he'd graded recently.

Miyagi's brow rose a bit at this as he considered Misaki, an "M" student and Usami-san's tenant. The professor wondered why it was that this Takahashi would be hanging out in the company of two such serious men.

"Ah well," Miyagi cleared his throat, "Please allow me to introduce Takatsuki Shinobu. He's the son of Dean Takatsuki and my ex- brother-in-law. I'm giving him a bit of extra tutoring. He's going to 'T' next year."

"Mmmmm?" Akihiko inquired, "What subject?"

"Law," Shinobu offered politely.

The author nodded appreciatively at the young man's choice. "Not an easy major."

Hiroki knew he needed to free the men from this small talk, if not for their sake then for his. He breathed a deep sigh and set the manuscript down on the table.

"I thought you were at a conference until Saturday, Professor Miyagi?" Hiroki said with a growl.

"Well, I presented yesterday and while I'd planned to stay… uh… there was an extenuating circumstance that enticed me to come home early," Miyagi said sounding slightly uncomfortable. He glanced at the blond "circumstance" standing next to him.

"And what about you, Kamijou, this doesn't seem to be your usual company?" Miyagi wanted to tease Hiroki more plainly about Kusama, but he was uncertain about doing so in front of the author and one of his junior's students.

Hiroki scowled at the question and his cheeks blushed pink which only made Miyagi's annoying grin grow wider. "Actually, Kusama-san will be here shortly, I'll let him know you asked after him, Professor."

The idea of one more person possibly seeing him in his illicit company with the Dean's son unnerved the older man. "Ah, yes… Well, I suppose we should be going. Let's secure that tea you were so adamant you had to have Shinobu-kun and head out so that we can finish your lessons." Miyagi muttered uncomfortably as he glanced over at Shinobu.

The young blond had been examining the bounty of small cakes spread over the table in front of Misaki. Shinobu's scowl deepened at his older lover's words. He hated it when Miyagi talked like this; the way they had to hide their relationship in public. He cocked his head as he continued to gaze upon all the sweets and he wondered why Miyagi was suddenly in such a hurry.

Then he let his cool gray eyes slip over to Hiroki who was studiously ignoring him. At the mention of Kusama, Shinobu's young brow had furrowed.

Just before Miyagi had left to go on his trip the teen had caught the two literature professors on the floor of their shared office in rather a compromising position. Miyagi had assured him later that it was an accident and that Kamijou had a partner of his own, but Shinobu wasn't entirely convinced. Given this, the blond decided he'd like to linger a bit and see this Kusama person for himself.

Noting the way the other boy his age, the one who had been introduced as Misaki, was poking at the cake on his plate, Shinobu asked pointedly "Do you think you're going to be able to eat all those?"

Misaki's large green eyes looked up at Shinobu. His cheeks pinked at being addressed directly by this stranger. "Wahhh? Uh no… I don't think so," Misaki stammered nervously.

"Need some help then?"

"Shinobu-kun," Miyagi chided, surprised and slightly annoyed with his younger lover's forwardness. Plus he knew why the blond was stalling. His eyes darted over at Hiroki and the assistant professor sighed and shrugged, apparently the youth's motives weren't lost on his junior either.

Shinobu's cheeks blushed and he dipped his head and offered a terse apology to Misaki. Then he turned to Miyagi. "I went straight to the airport to wait for your plane to come in after fourth period and I missed lunch. I'm hungry." Shinobu mumbled, "I thought you were supposed to be 'looking after' me, Sensei."

Though the boy's tone was incredibly polite, the teen's meaning was not lost on Miyagi. Though the rest of his face remained composed, his left brow gave a slight twitch.

From where he was sitting, Akihiko's cool lavender eyes appraised Shinobu. He rather liked the youth's mettle. And if his internal sonar was correctly picking up the signals between the two males before him, the author realized with some pleasure he might have just found a third couple for his BL novels. Akihiko's gaze shifted back to his own lover, however, when he heard Misaki clear his throat.

"Ummmm… I don't mind. I'm happy to share actually," Misaki offered with a friendly smile. "Usagi… uh Usami-san bought me so many and I'd hate to see any of them go to waste."

At this, Akihiko's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He wanted no other mouth on his gift than his Misaki's.

Miyagi noticed this immediately. To be honest, he really didn't relish the idea of his Shinobu-chin eating sweets that another man had purchased either.

"Look, Shinobu-kun, we should leave Kamijou and his company in peace. I'll get you your own cake if you like."

Shinobu's gray eyes widened initially at this, then he studied the professor suspiciously.

"Ummmmm," Miyagi nodded, keeping his face solemn, though internally he was tickled by the childlike response his offer had immediately stirred in the younger man.

"Ahh… really I don't mind sharing, Miyagi-sensei," Misaki offered the professor. I have enough for both of you."

"Ah… that's very kind of you Takahashi-kun, but I'm not one for sweets," Miyagi murmured kindly.

"If you get one for me, you need to get one for you too, Onii-san," Shinobu said putting particular emphasis on the last word. He'd decided if they had to pretend, he would play it to the hilt.

"Do I now?" Miyagi's brow quirked. The title that boy had given was not lost on him, but he refused to rise to the bait. "You don't think I have enough sweet things in my life already?" The older man's tone was teasing as he said this.

Behind the dwindling pages of the manuscript Hiroki held back a snort at the older man's question._ Seems more like a bitter pill to me._

As if he could hear Hiroki's thoughts Shinobu shot the assistant professor a fierce look which Hiroki deflected with a rattle of papers.

Miyagi grinned at this silent skirmish. This was cut short, however when Shinobu transferred his glare to him. The blond crossed his arms and nodded in the direction of the confection counter. "Two cakes."

Miyagi sighed as he moved over towards the counter followed on his heels by the blond. "Once you get a notion in that head of yours, Shinobu…" He sighed.

"I never let go of it," Shinobu finished. "And don't you forget it," the teen admonished.

"How could I?" Miyagi teased stepping to the counter to place his order. "You'll never let me."

Misaki watched this interaction with mild confusion. Then he looked up and saw Akihiko was staring at him hard.

"You have a bit of chocolate just there," The author purred and before Misaki could stop him, a broad thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. Misaki's eyes widened at this public display of affection. They grew even more so when Akihiko put the frostinged thumb up to his own lips and licked it.

As if Misaki wasn't red enough already he flushed a deeper shade of crimson when Hiroki set down his reading and offered a low "tsk." Apparently the x-ray vision that allowed his strict professor to see students texting below their desks in class, worked through pages as well. The teen sunk down in his seat, dying of embarrassment.

Akihiko, however, just offered Hiroki an unrepentant smirk. Then his eyes drifted over to the front counter where the other odd couple was currently debating the merits of various cream fillings.

_Definitely Junai material._

"Eat up, Misaki," Akihiko murmured. "I feel a bout of writing coming on." The author pulled out the pen and small notebook he carried with him for jotting down ideas and made a few scribbled notes.

"Usagi-san," I don't think I can eat all these, won't you at least have a few with me?"

"No, I bought those just for my Misaki. It is my gift for you," Akihiko said simply without turning back to look at the teen.

"You didn't need to buy so many," Misaki sighed. He would have liked to add a "stupid Usagi" to his statement, but he didn't dare in front of his professor.

Then seeing that the other couple had their tea and cakes Akihiko caught Shinobu's eye and nodded in silent invitation. If Misaki was going to doddle over his "treat" then the author figured he might as well use the time to do a little more observational research. He nudged Misaki gently and the two slid further into the "U" shaped booth making room for the other men.

Shinobu stepped over with the tray bearing his and Miyagi's purchased goods. "I apologize again, Takahashi-san, Usami-sensei, for interrupting earlier. And by the way, Usami-sensei, may I say I found your last novel compelling," Shinobu said politely.

Both Misaki and Akihiko's eyes widened with at this, Misaki's large with wonder, the author's slightly with pleasure.

As he waited for a stoic but disgruntled Miyagi to catch up, Shinobu had decided there was no way, with Kusama's impending arrival, he was just going to let Miyagi force him to take their order and leave. He had informed the older man of as much while they were standing at the counter. No, he had no intention of going anywhere until he saw the younger professor's supposed boyfriend himself.

_Besides,_ Shinobu reflected, _after a few minutes Miyagi will settle in and start talking._ _After all, how often does one have the chance to sit and converse with one of Japan's favored authors?_

Miyagi sat down at the table and once he and Shinobu were settled, after taking a bite of his cake to satisfy Shinobu's insistence that he have some, Miyagi asked Akihiko about his projects. While Akihiko was internally disappointed that the man chose to engage him instead of interact with his fiery young lover, the author pulled out his professional manners.

Across the table Hiroki was hard-pressed not to snort at the two older men's performances.

After a few minutes, however, Akihiko soon realized that despite how much Hiroki might complain to him at times about the man's clownish demeanor (which was presently absent); Miyagi Yoh was every bit as sharp as his friend was. He could see why Hiroki, however he grumbled, would relish the chance to work with the professor. In fact, before he was even quite aware of what had happened, Akihiko found himself pulled into in a rousing discussion about the state of contemporary Japanese literature.

As the two men continued their intellectual banter, across the table, Hiroki was growing ever more irritated. _How in the hell am I supposed to read with those two idiots yammering away? Besides, it isn't as if I don't have to listen to them both more than enough already._

Hiroki was for once grateful to Miyagi's brat when, at a slight lull in the conversation, Shinobu cautiously interrupted the two men.

"Miyagi… san," Shinobu said sounding almost shy now (listening to his older lover when the man really got going always made the teen feel a bit of awe). "Are you going to eat that?"

Miyagi looked from his cake to his blond terrorist. " Erm… No. Why?"

"Can I have it then please? I'm still hungry." Shinobu admitted sheepishly.

Miyagi felt a warmth bloom in his chest at his lover's cuteness and silently pushed his plate over in front of the teen.

"Thank you," Shinobu said softly. His usual frown absent until Miyagi gave him an amused smile.

"Growing boys," Miyagi smirked as he looked over to Akihiko. Akihiko cast a pale eye on Misaki and nodded sagely.

"Stupid, Miyagi" Shinobu whispered under his breath in a voice so light that only his lover's trained ear could hear it. The teen brought the first forkful of the other man's cake to his mouth and then dropped it with a clatter when Miyagi's big hand slipped unobtrusively under the table and a broad palm slid up and squeezed his thigh unexpectedly in a bit of erotic punishment.

"Clumsy boys too," Miyagi chided, giving Shinobu a significant look.

Across the table Akihiko gave a short, low chuckle, guessing exactly what was transpiring under the table.

Misaki, who had no idea what Akihiko was smiling about, had been completely lost by the complexity of the men's conversation within the first two minutes.

He had watched from under his lashes as the other boy had silently, but intently followed the two literati's every exchange. It seemed obvious to Misaki, that Miyagi-sensei's gifted ex-relative/pupil had somehow garnered Usagi-san's approval, even if just for a moment.

The green-eyed teen focused back on his overwhelming pile of desserts. He was internally chiding himself for his stubborn brain and trying fervently to convince himself that he wasn't jealous.

Across the table from him, aware of the true dynamics of the moment, Hiroki was also struggling but for a very different reason. "I'm surrounded by a bunch of god damn perverts," the assistant professor mumbled under his breath, checking to see how many pages he had left to read. Then his eyes lifted from the remaining sheets as the bell over the door jingled.

_Speaking of perverts, _Hiroki thought, finding himself fighting to keep from smiling and his annoyance dissipating: his own favorite and personal pervert had just entered the shop.

"Hiro-san!" Nowaki said happily. Then he stopped, hesitating as his eyes took in all the other people sitting at the table.

"You're early for being late," Hiroki growled, dropping his eyes back to the novella, not wanting anyone to see how pleased he was to be rescued by Nowaki's soothing presence.

"Ah, I'm sorry Hiro-san," Nowaki said after offering the other men a bow and polite greeting. The giant ran a large hand through his shaggy black mane; his other hand was carrying a canvas shopping bag. "I got done faster than I thought I would. I texted you but you must not have gotten it."

He slid unselfconsciously into the booth next to Hiroki and set the bag on the table, mindful of the professor's papers. Nowaki didn't say anything but he gave Hiroki his sly _"did you miss me Hiro-san?"_ look.

Hiroki grimaced remembering that he'd turned off his phone after Nowaki's last message. He blushed furiously and cleared his throat as he lowered the manuscript. _How in the hell could I miss anybody with all this company? _ The older man's own look replied as his eyes swept over the booth's other occupants with an exasperated expression.

Misaki was eying Nowaki with wide-eyed wonder, his gaze alternating between the two men. The teen's cheeks broke out with a new blush and he dropped his eyes. Misaki felt bad that he was shocked to find out that his fiercest professor actually had another friend outside of Usagi-san.

Shinobu, on the other hand, was studying the new arrival with extreme intensity. _So this is the type Kamijou would attract?_

The guy was handsome, taller than Miyagi even, and his blue eyes radiated a warm and intelligent glow. Shinobu had also noticed that the minute this Kusama fellow had arrived Miyagi's over-friendly hand had slipped immediately off of his thigh.

"Ah, I'm sorry Hiro-san I didn't mean to interrupt," Nowaki murmured apologetically though he knew by Hiro-san's response (or more so by his lack of one) the man had indeed missed him. Then he turned back to the others and offered a similar apology.

Miyagi smirked with triumph at Shinobu and wiggled his brows as if to say, "see, I told you."

"Not at all, Kusama-kun. You're fine," Miyagi offered benevolently despite the lingering trepidation he felt. He needed to put on an unflappable appearance in front of Shinobu.

Akihiko said nothing, he just nodded. Then he sat back a bit and stretched himself out elegantly, making sure that his body took up more space.

Nowaki's polite smile flickered for just a moment at the author's obvious posturing. He lowered his eyes as his cool blue flashed hot, not wanting to do anything that would embarrass his Hiro-san.

Misaki, who had been sitting next to the author had been shooting timid glances at Nowaki. The tall man seemed so familiar. "Wahhhhh," Misaki exclaimed suddenly. "I know you! You're the one at _Flower Art_ that helped me get the roses and then you helped me on the train too!"

Misaki bumped the author's elbow excitedly, all but making Akihiko spill the remaining now cold tea in his cup, just as he was preparing to take a sip.

"Usagi… I mean Usami-san! This is the tall guy I was telling you about! Remember?"

"Indeed," Akihiko said coolly, wiping at a drop of tea that had darkened the arm of his sportcoat. "Hiroki, how much longer do you think you'll be?" He suddenly shifted his gaze to the professor ignoring Nowaki completely.

Hiroki was not oblivious to this and chose to remain silent, ignoring Akihiko in return.

"Ah, so sorry, I don't really remember." Nowaki said, setting aside his annoyance and offering Misaki an earnest smile. He pointedly disregarded the dark aura the author was emitting.

"So you're a florist, Kusama-san?" Shinobu asked, his tone was curious and not without a slight edge of disbelief.

"Yes," Nowaki nodded as the shopkeeper came up to see if the store's newest arrival needed anything.

Shinobu couldn't fathom with everything he knew about Kamijou that the man would be content to be with someone so commonly occupied. Then his keen eyes spied a trace of betadine on Nowaki's wrist, left behind from assisting in an earlier surgery.

"That's not all you are though is it, Kusama-san?"

Hiroki set down Akihiko's pages and glanced at his lover who was now placing an order. He frowned at and looked sharply at Shinobu. Then Hiroki said in a tone revealing his pride in his hardworking partner. "Kusama-san is also a medical intern, Pediatrics, and first in his rank."

Then just because he couldn't help but knock the brat down another peg, he added as his eyes drifted back to the last few pages of text, "plus he's a really good cook." His mouth quirked ever so slightly as out of the corner of his eye he saw Shinobu's shoulders almost imperceptibly slump.

"You're a good cook, Kusama-san?" Misaki breathed enthusiastically, much to Akihiko's consternation.

"Ah, I do alright I suppose," Nowaki said mildly. Then he looked at Hiroki. "Hiro-san, I got that salmon you asked for and I picked up some cabbage too."

At the word cabbage, Shinobu gulped and looked down blushing.

"Kusama-san, what are you going to make?" Misaki asked breathlessly.

"I plan to make salmon and ginger cabbage," Nowaki said smiling at the boy's sweet interest.

Shinobu shifted in his seat, he would have liked to ask for the recipe, but couldn't, not in front of Miyagi anyway. That would have made him look like he wasn't the cabbage expert he was vainly trying to be.

Fortunately for the blond, Misaki had no such reservations. "How will you cook it, Kusama-san?" Misaki asked, leaning down and boldly picking up Akihiko's notebook. He glanced down at the author's scrawl and quickly flipped the page flushing fiercely when he realized what Usagi-san had been writing.

Nowaki sat back in his seat and his blue eyes rolled up thoughtfully towards the ceiling. "Ummm, let me see, it's been a while since I made it... but…

"First I preheat oven to 400 degrees. Then in 12-inch nonstick skillet, I heat olive oil on medium for about one minute and add a chopped onion. I cover that and cook it for eight to ten minutes or until the onion is tender and golden. Oh yes, stirring it occasionally is important."

Misaki scribbled furiously while Shinobu simultaneously memorized Nowaki's careful directions.

"Meanwhile, while this is going, I grease a nine by thirteen glass baking-dish. Then with a pair of tweezers, I remove any bones from the salmon pieces. Once I get this done I place the salmon, rounded sides up, in the dish."

"Do you use any seasonings for the salmon?" Misaki was hanging on every gentle word Nowaki uttered, completely oblivious to the increasingly twitchy brow of the big rabbit sitting next to him.

"Yes, in a cup, I stir together curry power, Dijon mustard, and 2 teaspoons of water to brush evenly over salmon before I bake it."

"Wahhh, that sounds delicious, Kusama-san," Misaki sighed.

Down a ways Shinobu scowled, wishing the little brunet idiot would stop making all his exclamations and let Kusama get on with the rest of the recipe.

"Well, some people seem to like it," Nowaki smiled. Under the table his knee brushed Hiroki's.

The professor was hard-pressed not to start at the contact. _Six more pages_, Hiroki told himself. _Then I'm done._ Under the table he couldn't help but nudge back against Nowaki's leg.

The giant's sweet smile broadened just a bit at this. "Then we start to cook." He said his voice just a little deeper than normal. Next to him Hiroki's cheeks suddenly began to burn as he felt Nowaki bump his leg again.

Then transitioning so it seemed to everyone else that he had been speaking about the fish this whole time, Nowaki offered, "so I roast the salmon, without turning it over for about twenty minutes or just until the meat is opaque throughout."

Finally Shinobu couldn't restrain himself any longer. "But what about the cabbage," he whispered.

Miyagi frowned now.

"Ah..." Nowaki said lowering his voice. He looked back and forth between both boys as if he was letting them in on a big secret. (It was a strategy he used with the children he worked with and it was no less effective here.) Shinobu and Misaki both leaned forward eagerly, while their silent lovers looked on fuming.

"Well, while the salmon is roasting, I add ginger and cumin along with the onion already in the skillet and cook this for one minute. Once again stirring is important."

Misaki's eyes dropped down and he added this information to his notes. Shinobu however was transfixed, anticipating the next step.

"Then I add cabbage and a quarter teaspoon of salt before I cover and cook it for eleven to thirteen minutes or until the cabbage is just tender enough and just starting to brown. Of course you have to stir occasionally here too. When it's done you spoon it out and put the salmon on top."

Shinobu shook his head once Nowaki stopped talking, like he was emerging from a spell. Listening to Nowaki had made his wild mind feel tamed for the minutes the tall man was speaking. Shinobu understood now why this Kusama would appeal to Kamijou.

The blond's momentarily docile state was not lost on Miyagi, whose hand had drifted back to the teen's leg and was resting on it now in a way that unconsciously proprietary.

"That's it?" Misaki asked expectantly. Next to him, Akihiko reached over and plucked his notebook and his pen back. The author's expression indicated this was far more than enough already.

Hiroki had reached the last pages and was making some additional notes, not at all unaware of the raised hackles across the table in response to his lover's rapt audience. He was feeling mightily amused, at least until Nowaki spoke again.

"Yep," Nowaki said, then he hesitated a minute. "Oh wait, the last step is to serve it to someone you love. It tastes the best that way."

This comment set all three of the smaller men at the table to blushing.

Hiroki knocked Nowaki's knee hard under the table with his own, but it didn't seem to faze the giant at all. The professor tensed as he waited for the younger man to say something else embarrassing.

Just then the waitress stepped up with a tray bearing the house special. It was the same cake Hiroki had ordered when he was first waiting for Nowaki to come. Unlike the other pastries, it was served hot, the frosting melted with liquid fudge in the middle.

The waitress beamed at Nowaki, as women were wont to do. "The manager said this one is on the house as your table has already ordered so much."

"That's very kind," Nowaki said with perfect politeness. "Please thank her for me."

The waitress looked slightly disappointed in this response. As soon as she left the table Nowaki turned. He'd noticed Hiroki's cake, the dark chocolate looking matted and congealed since it had cooled, rather than the glistening glaze on the surface of his fresh cake.

Without a word, Nowaki carefully reached a long arm over Hiroki, not disturbing the man who was now thoroughly concentrating on making his last correction and switched out their sweets, taking Hiroki's cold cake for his own.

Hiroki was not so lost in his work he didn't notice Nowaki's motions and looked up with a frown. This expression intensified when Misaki, who had been watching all this suddenly asked, "Kusama-san, why did you trade cakes with Kamijou-sensei? They're both the same kind."

Hiroki stiffened at the question. The exchanging of cakes had a special meaning for the couple.* One that he didn't really relish having shared in this company. He had no desire later to be teased about it or come across it in some sex novel.

"No reason," Nowaki murmured as he cut a bit of the chilled dessert. He considered the bite on the end of his fork thoughtfully. "You know I didn't used to like chocolate… I once wrote a poem about it when I was a kid… Well, even now I only like certain kinds…" He eyed his brunet lover as he said this last bit.

Seeing how pink this statement made Hiroki's cheeks, Akihiko knew immediately this wasn't the whole story. Feeling a bit vindictive about having his notebook and his Misaki occupied with the young intern's foolish recipe, the author decided to poke at the couple across from him a bit.

"You know, Misaki," Akihiko intoned in his superior voice, "Some think that cakes can be symbolic of one's hopes and dreams."

He looked in to his lover's startled green gaze, aware that both Kusama and Hiroki were now watching him carefully through slightly narrowed eyes, knowing that the man was about to stir things up a bit.

"If that's true," Akihiko continued, enjoying his captive audience. "Then I gave all my hopes and dreams to you, Misaki. You might have been happy with one simple dream but I gave you an abundance."

Then the author nodded at the older professor who was still frowning. "Miyagi-sensei didn't have any of his own, since he didn't want to order in the first place, until Takatsuki-kun forcefully gave him some. But you see how they shared them… Miyagi-sensei, was content with his small taste, Takatsuki-kun meanwhile being voracious…That tells one quite a bit about where each of them is in their life."

Lavender eyes shifted away from the uncomfortable Miyagi over to Kusama, and for one of the few times in his life, Nowaki found himself addressed by the "great lord Usami" directly.

"You, by swapping, give your dreams to Hiroki and take his as your own."

Akihiko settled back, feeling quite pleased with the tense silence that now weighed down their table.

Hiroki was glaring furiously at him for making such claims so plainly.

Seeing that Hiroki was on the edge of an explosion, Nowaki calmly sighed, "Ah, Usami-san, you think so complexly. That is why you make such a good friend for Hiro-san. I imagine I could have never come up with such a complicated analogy.

"In truth I am a simple man, and so actually, I'd just thought that since Hiro-san's cake was already cold and mine was still warm, he might prefer mine to his own. I believe you know that these days Hiro-san much prefers heat to the chill."

Akihiko snorted in surprise at Kusama's own sharp analogy.

Hiroki was beside himself with Nowaki's cloaked claiming of him. He had a sudden flash of their first "Hiro-san is mine moment."

Seeing however, as there was no door to close here on the author and Akihiko's stunned expression had already shifted and the man looked about ready to speak again. Hiroki elbowed Nowaki out of the booth.

Blushing furiously he stood up as Nowaki moved aside. He capped his pen and pulled out his bag, dropping his abandoned novel into it. He grabbed the sheaf of edited pages and thrust them at Akihiko, barely giving the man a chance to grasp them before he released the manuscript.

"That's it. Akihiko, the manuscript is great. Follow my edits and I'm sure you and your 'real' editor will have no problem," Hiroki gruffed. He nodded at his senior, who was still a bit confused as to what exactly had just happened. "Professor Miyagi, I'll see you at school tomorrow." Hiroki nodded as he gave a light push to his giant who had just gathered up his bag with the salmon.

"Come on Nowaki, let's go! I don't want that fish to spoil!" Hiroki grabbed the younger man's arm. Nowaki offered the two teens a light wave of goodbye as the professor pulled him out of the café.

Misaki watched the two men leave, still not quite sure of the pair's true dynamics. He looked over at the men's abandoned cakes and then back at Usagi. "What does it mean Usagi-san then, that they didn't finish?"

Akihiko ruffled Misaki's hair, despite the fact they still had other company. "Maybe they decided to put off their dessert for a main course instead," he murmured and then sighed at Misaki's confused expression before calling the waitress over for a box to pack up the rest of his young lover's unconsumed dreams.

**X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X**

*** Refers to Faye-Naruse's "The Icing on the Cake" which is the story that inspired Panda to write the setup for this piece.**

**Okay next, end omakes for this fic.**

**So, you can thank Panda for this chapter's Eastern sensibilities. My first draft off of Panda's notes was very Western and the characters much more Fan Ficky. It is always fun and helpful to get a new perspective, so I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed crafting it.**

**BTW, that ginger cabbage salmon dish is real. I pulled it off a "Good Housekeeping" site. **

**God, I hope no one ever checks my browsing history. I don't give a damn about all the porn/yaoi sites I visit, but there is no way in hell I would ever live that "Good Housekeeping" thing down.**

**As always… love to all you readers and please considering dropping me a note… I mean 5000+ words should at least be worth a sentence or two from you. Don't you think?**

**Sincerely Cerberus**


	5. 3: Tastes like a Dream: Chapter III

**Tastes like a Dream III**

**Omake: Three Layered Sweet**

Later back at the Usami Apartment Misaki was lying on the couch groaning. His hands were resting on his swollen tummy. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh. Akihiko had left him reclining and ambled into the kitchen a few moments earlier. Misaki was contemplating if he should get up off the sofa and go check on his wayward rabbit before the older man had the chance to wreak his usual havoc.

Misaki was just about to rise when behind his closed lids he saw a shadow fall over him.

"Misaki, I have something for you."

"No more cake, Usagi-san. Please," the boy hiccupped. "Ooohhh… I never want to see another desert again as long as I live."

"Sweet Misaki," the author sighed. Misaki felt the cushion on the sofa depress as Akihiko sat down beside him. The small decorative bear-faced throw that had become slightly damp by the sweat of the boy's distressed head was gently pulled out from underneath it. Misaki soon found his dizzied head resting on the cool pillow of Akihiko's lean thigh.

"Come on, open your eyes, Misaki" the older man coaxed.  
>Misaki opened one large green eye warily and saw a pair of concerned lavender orbs gazing down on him.<p>

"Here," Akihiko said kindly and Misaki felt a large cool hand lift one of his from over his belly while Akihiko's other hand pressed a glass into it.

"What's this?" Misaki asked cautiously.

"Seltzer. It will settle your stomach."

Misaki lifted his head and cautiously sniffed the fizzing beverage.

"Drink it," Akihiko gently ordered.

Misaki closed his eye and obliged the man. After a moment he burped and blushed profoundly.

"Feel better?" Akihiko asked taking the glass from Misaki and setting it on the coffee table.

Misaki sighed. "Ummm, yeah… a little." He settled his head back against the comforting mass of Akihiko's leg and ran his fingers through his tousled, dark hair.

This relaxed state only lasted for a moment however, before the boy's eyes shot open. Akihiko had pushed the boy's remaining hand off his stomach and had pulled Misaki's _Neko Hiro_ t-shirt up, revealing his protruding tummy.

"Usagi-san! Pervert!" Misaki gasped as he tried to bolt upright. Then feeling Akihiko's other hand hold him down the teen's voice became more plaintive. "Please, Usagi-san, not now. I don't know if I can take it."

"Shhhh," Akihiko's velvet voice purred. "Do you honestly think I'd risk jostling you at this point?"

A cool hand settled on Misaki's heated belly. It felt delicious. The teen looked up towards his forehead and saw Akihiko smirking down on him. But it was a tender smirk, one that could almost be trusted… almost.

"Okay," Misaki said shakily and allowed himself to settle back down. The teen closed his eyes again and exhaled a murmuring breath as the author's hand that had been restraining him, slipped up and began to gently ruffle his bangs. Chilled fingers soothed his forehead.

At this cool touch, Misaki's mind drifted back to Kusama-san's words at the cafe about Kamijou-sensei and the heat and the chill. The teen knew there was some special meaning in the tall man's response to Usagi-san he hadn't deciphered yet.

He mulled over the possible interpretations drawing a blank, until a gurgle from his complaining belly once again reminded him of the cakes. "Usagi-san, is it true?" Misaki asked hesitantly opening his eyes and looking back up at his lover.

Akihiko offered his uncomfortable boy a slightly curious look. "Is what true, Misaki?"

"What you said in the café…" Misaki paused and then rushed forward sounding embarrassed, "that cakes represent hopes and dreams…and you give yours all to me?"

"Ummmm…" Akihiko hummed tucking one of many stray dark locks behind Misaki's ear. "That's true."

"STUPID USAGI! Misaki's volume startled them both. The teen looked embarrassed by his outburst, the author amused.

"Erm… I mean… you shouldn't do that… They're too rich and too many. My common being can't handle them." Misaki's eyes drifted over to the pastry box sitting on the coffee table and he grimaced. His voice suddenly became shy. "Besides, I don't want any of your dreams to go to waste, Usagi-san."

Akihiko smiled and the hand ruffling the teen's hair slipped down and caught Misaki's chin tipping it back towards him. He leaned down and planted a cool kiss on the youth's forehead. "Misaki, nothing I give you will ever seem a waste to me, no matter what you do with it. With you as my muse, I shall never run out of dreams. You might as well just get used to that fact."

With this, Akihiko reached down gently and carefully pulled Misaki up and into his lap.

The boy stiffened slightly at this, trying to decide if he should fight the embrace, but his impending sugar coma lulled his usual resistance, so instead Misaki allowed himself to be drawn in. He settled himself against the author's broad chest and tucked his head under the older man's chin.  
>"Stupid Usagi…." Misaki murmured as a sleepy endearment.<p>

Akihiko gave the boy a light squeeze at this in affirmation. Hearing another unhappy gurgle from his young lover's over-taxed belly the man's face became thoughtful. "Maybe after all the sweet dreams you inspire me to give you, perhaps some time you would share one of your dreams with me."

Misaki raised his head up and gazed curiously at Akihiko. "You want me to bake you a cake, Usagi-san? But you don't like sweets."

The author smiled at the adorable idiot in his lap and his lover's literal-mindedness "It's true, you're the only sweet I desire, but if it's served on the right plate." Akihiko ran his large palm suggestively down Misaki's torso. His amethyst eyes glittered.

Misaki's eyes own green widened at this. He blushed and ducked his head under Akihiko's chin again. "Pervert," he muttered into his Usagi-san's neck, though in truth the notion did not entirely displease him.

_Nii-chan please help your little brother, this damn rabbit has corrupted me. _

Too weary now to be irritated by this realization and knowing Takahiro was out of the range of his thoughts, ensconced in Osaka, Misaki sighed and settled in. Around him, Akihiko did the same.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

Stepping into their shared apartment Miyagi watched Shinobu as the youth bent to take off his shoes. A look of concern flickered in his eyes despite his straight face. Shinobu had become increasingly subdued ever since they'd left the sweet shop.

Even Miyagi's agreement to stop at the store so the youth could pick up the ingredients to try out Kusama's recipe hadn't roused the boy.

After stepping out of his shoes and hanging up his things, Miyagi went into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes while Shinobu moved into the kitchen to put away the groceries and start dinner.

Out in the kitchen Shinobu was ruminating over Akihiko's analogies. He considered what the author had said about Kamijou-san and Kusama san's cake exchange. The youth was smart enough to understand that was what the author was saying was that each man lived equally for the other.

Shinobu sighed. Given what little he'd ascertained from his brief meeting of Kamijou-san's lover, it rang true to him. Not only that, but though both men were so different in many ways, together they seemed somehow balanced.

The blond set out the head of cabbage he'd purchased on the counter and stared at it. He considered again what Usami-Sensei had said about him and Miyagi. All the cake he'd consumed suddenly sat weighted in his belly like a stone, pulling his heart down right along with it.

Shinobu looked up to see his older lover ambling towards the kitchen. Miyagi was dressed now in loose, gray, cotton pants and a black tee-shirt. Shinobu frowned when he also saw the man was smoking.

Miyagi's eye caught the teen's as he moved over, coming to lean against the outside edge of the counter that separated the kitchen from the main room. His cigarette dangled loosely between long fingers. "What's wrong Shinobu-chin?" Miyagi asked raising his smoke and taking a lazy puff.

The blond ducked his head and looked down at the cabbage. "I told you, you need to go outside and smoke if you have to. Ruin your own lungs, but not mine," Shinobu gruffed.

Miyagi looked at his cigarette and sighed. Without looking up Shinobu pulled a clean ashtray from a drawer and set it before the older man. Miyagi looked at it for a moment and then tapped his cigarette out in it. "Come on Shin-chin there's more to it than that. Spit it out. You look more sour than usual. What's bothering you?" the older man rumbled.

Shinobu took the head of cabbage between his hands and rolled it despondently around on the counter. Then he looked up at Miyagi and his gray eyes were glistening. "I'm sorry," he choked before looking away again.

Miyagi's brow rose. He watched the pink blossom in his young lover's cheeks. He would have found Shinobu's blushing adorable if it hadn't been for the fact the boy was so obviously distressed. "What in the hell are you sorry for?"

"I'm so selfish… I forced my dreams on you and then took them all back… After you had just a taste, I left you with nothing." Shinobu sobbed. "We should be equal but we're not."

The professor shook his head smiling sadly and stepped around the counter. He moved behind Shinobu and wrapped his long arms around the blond from the back. "Hush brat," Miyagi murmured into Shinobu's ear. Then he slowly spun the boy around to face him.

When Shinobu refused to look at him Miyagi gathered the youth's face in his hands. "Shinobu, look at me," Miyagi's voice was sweet but stern. Shinobu screwed his face up into a scowl and raised his eyes.

"You have a lot to learn, kid. And one of the things you need to realize is that things don't have to be equal to be balanced." Miyagi growled.  
>The older man watched the teen's eyes widen as he processed this. He continued on before Shinobu could speak. "Look there is more than one way to understand this equation."<p>

Shinobu sniffled and remained silent waiting for Miyagi to elaborate.

"You're right. I didn't have any dreams. I had left them all with another until you came along and gave yours to me. But I am an old man, what am I going to do with all those wild notions? Such things belong with you, a young man rising up in the world." Miyagi frowned a bit and hesitated.

His boy was shocked by the roughness in Miyagi's voice when he next spoke. "But you didn't leave me with nothing as you contended. You gave me that single taste. That bit of dream I need to sustain me. That bit is you, Shinobu-chin. You're all the dream I need at the moment. Understand?"

Miyagi watched the new blush fill the teen's cheeks. But he could tell immediately that this color came from pleasure and not from pain. The older man was shocked when a moment later Shinobu reached up and pulled him down into a fervent kiss.

It took Miyagi a minute to catch his breath once Shinobu released him. He straightened and tried to look composed. After clearing his throat he asked the blond, "So you feel better now?"

Shinobu wiped his eyes on his sleeve and frowned at the older man before turning back to his newest vegetal victim on the counter. "Of course. I was fine all along really. You overreact too much. Stupid Miyagi," he muttered.

"Good."

The teen stiffened but just for a moment as he felt the older man's arms wrap around him again. "One more thing, Shinobu," Miyagi growled in his boy's ear as a long arm left him and pushed the cabbage. It rolled and bumped against the splashboard at the back of the counter.

"I am ordering takeout for us. There's no way in hell I'm letting you cook that giant's recipe. Got it? And no arguments here. Okay?"

Hearing the tone in Miyagi's voice the teen understood immediately that while he would never admit it, the older man was letting him know he was jealous of Kusama-san's intrusion into their domestic sphere. Knowing the man couldn't see his face Shinobu felt the corners of his mouth twitch up.

"Hmmmph," Shinobu grumbled, "I don't know… It sounded pretty good to me. Now I'm kind of hungry for it. Unless you have something else to replace that craving with…"

Miyagi understood exactly what the blond was saying. His hands slipped downwards as he husked into Shinobu's ear. "Maybe I could tempt you with a little more dessert first."

X X X X X X X X X X X X

After escaping the shop Hiroki and Nowaki had spent their first few minutes together exchanging their usual abbreviated pleasantries and the significant details of their day. After that, however, the pair had traveled side by side in comfortable silence for the remainder of their journey. Once they got off the train, the two men had automatically taken the long way home.

Heading down the last narrow alleyway before reaching the main street that ran past their apartment building; seeing that no one else was around, both wordlessly reached for the other's hand. As their skin made contact, Nowaki smiled while Hiroki frowned: each man's particular expression a reflection of his pleasure at this generally forbidden display of public affection.

Hiroki cleared his throat before they reached the end of the alley. Sensing the older man had something to say, Nowaki stopped and waited for Hiroki to speak.

Hiroki took another step forward before realizing Nowaki was no longer moving. He halted his own motion and took a step back to where Nowaki was standing with an expectant expression.  
>The intern grinned at how cutely his Hiro-san was suddenly blushing.<p>

After a moment, Hiroki cleared his throat again then, he quietly growled. "Nowaki, thank you."

Nowaki was a bit taken by surprise. "Eh, what for, Hiro-san?" As far as he knew he couldn't think of what he might have done to merit this sudden expression of gratitude.

Hiroki studied the strap of his book bag, running his free hand nervously up and down it . "For not telling Akihiko... about the cakes... what they mean," the professor muttered uncomfortably.

Blue eyes widened at this. "Ah, of course, Hiro-san. I wouldn't want just anyone to know that you do give your hopes and dreams to me, and I mine to you. That's a secret that's only between us." Nowaki offered this with a bright smile and clasped Hiroki's hand, still in his, tighter.

"Dumb-ass," Hiroki mumbled appreciatively. He started moving forward again pulling Nowaki with him.

As they reached the end of the alley, the two men each gave the other's hand a light squeeze before they released their tender grasp on each other.

A few minutes later as they were climbing the steps to the apartment, Hiroki was watching Nowaki's ascent as the man moved slightly ahead of him. He lowered his eyes as he reflected (and not for the first time since they'd left the shop) on what Nowaki had said to Akihiko.

Hiroki stopped and looked at his hand. He could still feel the lingering warmth from when Nowaki had held it minutes earlier. The professor found himself immensely grateful once again for the younger man's heat.

_Nowaki's presence in my life keeps me in perpetual thaw_, Hiroki thought. While this was not always comfortable, it was far preferable to the other state he had occupied for so many years. For the barest of instants, Hiroki remembered Akihiko's chilled touch, how long his love for the author had kept him frozen.

_Nowaki is right. I do prefer the heat far more than I ever imagined I would._

Trying to envision his life without Nowaki's particular fire sent a sudden tremor coursing through his lean frame.

A few steps up, Nowaki became aware that Hiroki was no longer following him. He paused and looked back seeing his lover's quake. The younger man descended back down towards the professor, actually going a few steps lower so that the men's heads were level. Nowaki placed a hand on Hiroki's shoulder. "Hiro-san, you're shivering."

Hiroki turned and looked from the hand he'd been contemplating into the gentle warmth of Nowaki's eyes.

Nowaki was startled by the depths of emotion reflected in Hiroki's dark gaze. He realized that it wasn't the crisp air that had made the older man shiver. He gave Hiroki a particular smile. "Why don't we hurry inside where I can get you warmed up, Hiro-san?"

Hiroki blushed at the promise in Nowaki's words. "Damned brat," he mumbled reluctantly shrugging off Nowaki's hand and missing the heat of it instantly. "You're getting awfully cheeky these days." Still, he turned again and immediately resumed his climbing, fighting hard to keep the eagerness out of his step. Behind him Nowaki kept the pace, so that the two remained at the same height until they reached the landing.

As the couple drew near to their apartment Nowaki noticed a box sitting in front of their door. "Did you order more books, Hiro-san?"

Hiroki eyed the box suspiciously as they approached it. "Wrong kind of box. That looks like a cake box to me," he muttered. Looking at the top he saw that both his and Nowaki's names were written on it. "And I bet I know who it's from. How does the bastard Akihiko do that? Get it here before us I mean?"

Still grumbling he bent and picked up the box, as an equally wondering Nowaki withdrew his key and opened the door. The two men entered their apartment and kicked out of their shoes. Balancing the box Hiroki hung up his book bag and shrugged out of his coat.

Nowaki too hung up his things and then headed to the kitchen to put away the groceries he'd bought. Hiroki set the box on the counter and joined him. Once the things were put away the two men stood in the kitchen each regarding the cake box with silent apprehension.

Finally Hiroki stepped up to the box. He was immensely pleased when Nowaki immediately pressed up behind and embraced him from the back. "Since both our names are written on it, Hiro-san, maybe we should open it together?" Nowaki's long arms slid over his and warm hands covered his.

"That's stupid," Hiroki gruffed but he didn't make any attempt to shrug the younger man off.

With a sigh of resignation and Nowaki's shaggy head hanging comfortably over his shoulder, Hiroki finally lifted the lid. Nowaki moved with him as they opened the box.

Inside were two small cakes side by side. Hiroki had noticed these in the confection case at the shop earlier but even though the design had enticed him, he had refrained from getting one of these because to do so seemed rather juvenile.

The sweets had been in a section made to appeal to children. _Perfect for Akihiko_, Hiroki thought. On the top of each cake was a carefully crafted frosting panda.

The professor noted that his old friend must have asked the pastry chef to make a few customizations. One of the pandas had blue eyes, while the other's was of a more fiery hue. Placed as they were in the box side by side, it looked as though the two creamy bears were holding hands. From their other non-clasped paws, each flew a small paper Japanese flag raised up on a wooden toothpick.

Hiroki understood that this, coming from the author, was a concession. If Akihiko had meant otherwise, he would have asked for the blue-eyed panda to have been given an American flag. He couldn't help but smile, knowing Nowaki had won in more ways than one today and that Akihiko was at last acknowledging this.

"Cute," Nowaki murmured, breaking Hiroki from his reverie. The giant did not sound particularly enthusiastic about the author's offering, however.

"Yeah, well, we can have these after you make that good salmon of yours. No need to spoil our appetites," Hiroki said blushing at the implications of what he was saying. He blushed further when he moved their hands off the box and rearranged Nowaki's around his waist.

"Cuter," Nowaki snuffled into Hiroki's ear, he nibbled peacefully now along its edge soothed by his lover's words. Then he stopped. "You sure they're safe to eat, Hiro-san? That Usami-san didn't tamper with them?"

"What? Poison them?" Hiroki snorted. "If Akihiko was going to do anything, he'd have imbued them with some kind of aphrodisiac so he could get another damn Junai scenario."

"Really?" This assertion caught Nowaki's interest. "Maybe we should eat them now then?"

"Pervert," Hiroki chided, he reached forward and closed the lid to the box. He stepped back and began to move out of the kitchen. Nowaki refused to relinquish his grasp around the older man's waist and followed fluidly after him.

"We don't need an aphrodisiac," Hiroki muttered. His whole body was starting to flush with heat, both from Nowaki's embrace and his own building flame.

He and Nowaki moved together easily down the hall. Hiroki could feel the younger man smiling behind him. "So, chef Kusama," Hiroki rumbled. "I hope you can teach me that recipe with more enthusiasm than the one you shared with those brats in the restaurant."

"Recipe, Hiro-san?" Nowaki asked feigning ignorance.

"Ummmm. The one for that spicy appetizer you said was your specialty," Hiroki growled, pulling Nowaki into their bedroom.

As they entered their room together, each man was secretly smiling. They didn't need Akihiko's cakes, or anyone's for that matter, to know that their desires were evenly shared.

**X X X X X X X X X X X X X X**

**Sorry no lemon crème here. That's the end of the story. Panda is shy and also fiercely protective of her beloved Egoist's privacy, though she not above peeking in on one of my lemons on occasion. Naughty Panda...  
><strong>

**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. It has been a joy to get them. Fauchocolat you got your wish. **

**Now Cerberus is off to try and wrangle the next chapter of Bedside Manners, since this fic's ending has got me craving something with a citrus flavor.**

**Until next time as my dear Loveless Tyrant says: "Mwah!"**

**(Do you know how long it took me to figure out that was supposed to be a kissing sound?)**

***Shakes head and goes to check mirror for other resemblances to Misaki.***


	6. 4: Couched Agreements: Chapter I

**So this is the newest Panda piece. Who knew that the bear was so fluffy?**

**It will be a two-parter and once again this work was inspired by that wonderful JR/SIH author Faye Naruse.**

**In the second chapter you will see a reference to Naruse's fic "Thoughts Carried by the Wind." If you haven't read that piece you should… All of her work actually… So cleanly and elegantly written.**

**Couched Agreements**

**Chapter One**

Hiroki sighed.

He surveyed his small apartment from where he sat on the couch following a quiet dinner with his lover, Kusama Nowaki. He was resting with his legs out-stretched as Nowaki sat behind him, embracing him from the back. Hiroki didn't even want to think about how they ended up in that position.

The front room's tight space was currently being made even smaller by the fact that it was filled with cardboard boxes. The couple was moving to a new, larger apartment next week and after many hours of careful organization and tedious labor most everything had been packed up, except for their everyday essentials.

Hiroki rubbed his hands together nervously and his brow furrowed as he contemplated again the surprising turn his life had recently taken.

The move had been Nowaki's idea.

The younger man had chosen the new apartment and the lease was in the name Kusama, which still made Hiroki feel slightly unsettled.

The professor wondered if he would have agreed to this new arrangement so easily if Nowaki's proposal hadn't been preceded by what Hiroki had now determined was an _in_significant misunderstanding, regarding Nowaki's obnoxious senpai, that did _not _nearly result in their breaking up.

Dark eyes scanned the apartment again. Hiroki knew he would be so relieved once the movers came and transferred their belongings. It made him very uneasy not to have all his books immediately visible. Still, he was more than a bit excited about the new cataloging system he had designed for his texts. Hiroki was looking forward to having the chance to implement this when he unpacked everything.

Of course, Nowaki had subjected him to a mild teasing earlier that evening when he'd arrived home from the hospital and found everything already boxed up. Especially since the movers wouldn't be there for several days yet.

While Hiroki wished they could just move now, the date was also the young intern's choice, as that was the only full day Nowaki could spare for the next two months.

This hectic schedule was yet another reason that Hiroki had wanted to get everything squared away early. Nowaki's suspicious senpai had promised to cover for the next half of the day (not a full day, Hiroki reminded himself), so his kouhai could pack things up.

Even if it wasn't the whole day, now, they would be able to spend that time together and Nowaki would be able to just rest, rather than have to spend his minimal time off preparing for the move.

Despite the fact he had properly apologized to the man for being drawn to ever so _lightly _touching Nowaki's clothes-filled bag to Tsumori's _not-so-tender _head after being subjected to a series of manipulative misunderstandings by the incorrigible tease; Hiroki was still slightly surprised the older intern had agreed to do this.

Hiroki took this concession as the man's admission of his own guilt in the matter. No doubt feeling convicted (and rightly so) when after Hiroki had made his amends, beside him, Nowaki had bowed to Tsumori too, then straightened up and said, in his most cheerful voice, "This would have never happened if you had let _me _break the news about the apartment to Hiro-san..right, Senpai?"

Of course at the time, trouble-making Tsumori had simply looked amused and chuckled. The next day, however, Nowaki had come home and beamingly told Hiroki of his senpai's kind offer.

Hiroki's lips twitched at the memory. Then he sighed again.

He frowned and picked his to-do list up off his lap; it was already almost full with ticks from his red pen.

Now while Hiroki had no issues packing up the apartment (about ninety percent of it was his stuff anyway, after all) he still had one area of mild peturbation about the move.

When they had been deciding which furniture to take and what to leave behind or throw away, Nowaki had smilingly said, "To me whatever Hiro-san chooses is fine," effectively ending his part in the decision making.

This, after all the commotion his personal typhoon had been stirring for their new living arrangement? Hiroki had fully expected the giant apartment attainer to take some responsibility and _contribute _to making their new place inhabitable.

Instead of saying this, however, Hiroki had gritted his teeth and vehemently said, "Fine. Don't blame me if I overload the place with books then." Nowaki had simply smiled and muttered his standard "cute" in response to this and annoyingly ruffled his older lover's hair.

In the end though, Nowaki had made one decision in this regard.

When the landlady had come to notify Hiroki about the requirements for cleanup entailed in ending his lease she had made a vague comment while looking admiringly at the couch in the front room. Nowaki had then felt compelled to offer her it as a parting gift, much to the woman's delight and Hiroki's dismay.

Because of this, Hiroki had been forced to add "Buy a new couch" to his list. This was one of the few remaining items without a check by it and given the circumstances, he had decided Nowaki would definitely be contributing an opinion.

Besides, not only had he given the old one away, but he would be sitting on the new one too. (Probably more in fact than Hiroki, as the older man, due to his traditional upbringing, still generally much preferred to sit on the floor.) Also, this would salve Hiroki's fragile pride since this domestic act struck him as something that the "wife" would normally be doing.

Not to mention having to choose a piece of furniture was a little daunting.

When he'd initially moved into his apartment to begin attending college, his mother had arranged all the furnishings. Given this, Hiroki had been surprised to see the numerous styles, and designs available. As if selecting a model wasn't enough, he'd almost suffered a panic attack earlier in the week after wandering into a furniture shop one day and receiving a lecture on the possibilities of "custom upholstery" from the sales clerk.

It struck the professor as truly ridiculous... all the possibilities for a mere couch. After spending several days in agony over the decision, Hiroki was starting to significantly regret not just going the traditional Japanese way... but his consideration of Nowaki's way too long legs prevented this.

After his disastrous shopping trip, Hiroki had decided there had to be a better way to go about procuring this new piece of furniture. This brought him to his present situation. He set his check list to the side and picked up the catalog the furniture store clerk had given to him from the coffee table.

He studiously began looking again at all the glossy pictures inside it. As he flipped through the images Hiroki pressed back a bit, leaning to the solid warmth that was his lover.

"Nowaki."

"Hmmmm," Behind him Nowaki had been basking in the fact all Hiro-san's packing had made the man too tired to resist his embrace and so he had been sitting quietly with him now for about half an hour.

Hearing how simultaneously happy and drowsy, the younger man's voice was, Hiroki felt his ears turning pink, which never failed to irritate him. The professor rolled up the magazine and gave a light bop to the top of Nowaki's shaggy head.

"Nowaki, I need your attention here. Can you be serious for a moment?...do you like this one?" Hiroki said, unrolling the catalog and holding out a picture of a white fluffy sofa.

Hiroki was considering this one because it was extra long and deep enough to accommodate the giant's entire frame should he ever fall asleep while reading or watching TV, _not_, of course, while waiting for him. Hiroki had looked at the size details and calculated the space it would occupy. Still plenty of room...for his books.

Undisturbed by Hiroki's previous textual assault, Nowaki now reluctantly moved his head from its spot, between Hiroki's neck and shoulder, and flipped an eye open. "Mmm...That's fine, Hiro-san" came the muffled response. Then the big lug resumed his position.

Hiroki squirmed a bit as the giant's hair tickled the back of his neck as Nowaki resettled.

The professor growled in desperation. He felt as though Nowaki was purposefully being uncooperative. As soon as he thought this, however, a wave of guilt washed over Hiroki. He supposed he was being unkind and maybe more so the younger man was too tired to be bothered with such things, especially considering Nowaki had just been released from a three-consecutive-day shift at the hospital.

Still, when Nowaki had first pulled him over onto the couch, there had been some initial suggestions of _other_ activities, so Hiroki knew for certain that his giant lover was not _entirely _exhausted.

Hiroki frowned and looked closely at another piece. The couch was almost the same as the previous one, except smaller.

"How about this one?" Hiroki, refusing to give up, held up another picture. "It's a little smaller."

Nowaki again slowly lifted his head, rested his chin on Hiroki's shoulder, blinked, then dropped his head back, brushing Hiroki's shoulder with his lips and tightening his embrace on the professor's waist. "Hmm...That's also fine, Hiro-san."

This made Hiroki's frown deepen. _Why would Nowaki want a smaller couch? He would be uncomfortable._

As if he'd read his mind, Nowaki sighed and Hiroki could feel the younger man's warm breath on his back through the thin tee-shirt he was wearing.

"If it's littler then when we sit on it together that just means we get to be closer to each other, Hiro-san."

Hiroki blushed at Nowaki's sappiness.

"Idiot.." He muttered under his breath. Even as he said this, Hiroki swore he felt Nowaki smile behind him.

**X X X X X X X X X X**

**As always Panda and I thank you for your feedback… stay tuned for the next chapter. It should be up before too long.**


	7. 4: Couched Agreements: Chapter II

**Couched Agreements**

**Chapter Two**

Hiroki sighs.

He relishes the quiet peace after all the hours of hustle and bustle.

Today he and Nowaki officially moved into their new apartment. The moving people have just finally left, relieved to be free from seemingly endless boxes.

Hiroki is grateful for their departure. He was growing tired of all their jokes about spending all day moving boxes that were full of "stones." There was also navigating the confusion as to where to put the boxes in the suddenly small apartment. Not to mention the sidelong glances he felt like they were giving him and Nowaki as they observed the couple amicably bicker about how to organize things.

Still, all in all it it's been a successful day and relatively uneventful. He and Nowaki finished unpacking the mountains of boxes, arranged the beds and tables. Nowaki put away kitchen utensils, while the professor set up the TV set.

This done now, Hiroki is feeling well settled into their new nest. He consciously fights the urge to insert the word "love" before "nest" as he thinks this.

With his body stiff from all the exertion, Hiroki just wants to rest a bit, especially since he's anticipating some exertion of a different sort later, when he and Nowaki consummate his new room. Hiroki feels so pleasantly weary; he doesn't even raise a blush at this thought. Instead, he sighs again and pushes himself deeper into the newly bought couch he and Nowaki decided on together (finally), legs outstretched on the floor.

He justifies this laziness by telling himself there's not much more he can do at the moment. After all, he's waiting for Nowaki.

The younger man went out to buy groceries. Nowaki had smilingly offered to do this when Hiroki was distracted in shelving his massive book collection and the professor was secretly grateful. He wasn't in any mood to deal with people, using all his "polite" energy in dealing with the movers. In exchange for this respite, Hiroki vacuumed the apartment and polished the furniture spotless.

Looking around the apartment, neat and clean, seeing there's no one here to observe him, Hiroki's lips twitch in wry amusement. The atmosphere of this new domicile is far different from the old, shabby flat where he'd lived during his college years and after.

Of course, Hiroki could have leased a place like this long ago. His previous impoverished living conditions were never because he couldn't afford a decent apartment on his own. It was simply because he could have cared less about anything flashy or fancy. He'd rather spend his money on old scrolls and manuscripts. He'd also felt one didn't need to take a lot of room for studying either, he needed only enough space to breathe in his books' wisdom.

Not only that, but up until Nowaki, Hiroki had always relished his isolation. Keeping his surroundings so humble had kept many from his tiresome society circle away (with the exception of Akihiko and even he would only linger long enough to sleep or until he was sure Aikawa was no longer waiting for him at his own apartment). Hiroki had liked that at the time. He didn't want anyone visiting him to get too comfortable.

Considering this, in all the time they had been together, that Nowaki never complained was still a mystery to the older man.

Hiroki sighs.

"Nowaki."

How his life has changed since that particular typhoon pulled him out of the dark and into the light. Even before they became lovers, in most of their tutoring sessions, Nowaki usually made an effort to tidy up scattered books or do the dishes while telling Hiroki about his day. It had amused Hiroki to see Nowaki subconsciously trying to gain control of his chaotic surroundings by trying to impose some semblance of order. It tore his heart too, to realize later that such habits came from Nowaki's tumultuous childhood.

At first, Hiroki was surprised that he ever even let Nowaki get domestic in his old lair. Normally, he never allowed anyone to touch his things, let alone move them. He supposed Nowaki's calm and easy demeanor aroused in him a sense of trust early on, though he'd never admit this.

Thinking he hears the door open, Hiroki raises his head. When no subsequent noise follows, he allows his gaze to sweep over their new living room again.

Using his new catalog system, Hiroki cleared the main room's book shelves off of any old texts, leaving only more recent publications to suit the chic ambiance of the new space (and the design of the new extra-long couch).

He put most of his sacred testaments up in his room. He recalls his mother warning him about the health dangers of sleeping surrounded by the mustiness of old texts. Still, Hiroki isn't too worried: Nowaki will see to his health by other means. And now too, between his favorite books and the double futon he and Nowaki will share on the nights they're both home together, he'll have everything precious to him kept in one place.

Hiroki blushes at the thought.

The professor drops his throbbing head to the cushion. His dark eyes stare blankly at an imaginary hole in the ceiling. A speck of dust, probably from his earlier vacuuming, is floating slowly, moved by the breeze from the nearby air-conditioner.

Hiroki's eyes feel heavy. His tired mind is tracing back to a similar view...a long...long time ago, where the light was the blazing sun, and the dust was a seed of a dandelion.

"Hey, Hiroki?" a calm and child-like voice is resounding in Hiroki's head. "Have you ever thought about getting married?"

"No, not really." Hiroki can see a miniature of himself speak quietly, a hint of disappointment and loneliness in the timbre of the voice. He remembers trying to picture himself at the altar, his future partner's face indiscernible, feeling the pervading sense that such a figure would never solidify for him.

"Hiro-san...Hiro-san..." Another voice intrudes into this memory, soothing...yet strangely urgent. Hiroki's hazy mind is gently pulled back to the present. Hiroki blinks. His brown eyes meet his lover's handsome face: dark hair, dark eyes, strong jaw, the features of a man.

_So this is the face, the one I thought I'd never see, _Hiroki thinks to himself.

Nowaki's brows are drawn and his usually smiling mouth turns down, concerned to find his lover in such an unresponsive state. Seeing the blank expression in the usually fiery eyes, Nowaki's rare frown deepens.

"Hiro-san, are you okay?" Nowaki gently shakes Hiroki's body. His warm hands feel calloused on Hiroki's slightly damp skin. Nowaki leans forward, as if getting ready to envelop Hiroki in a bearish embrace.

_And this is the body, _Hiroki thinks, feeling the heat, aware of the mass and the musk of the man drawing close to him.

"Hiro-san..." That usually calm voice is laced with more urgency.

Hiroki pulls himself together. "Aahhh..Nowaki... you're home. You got everything?" He tries to sound normal.

Nowaki's frown refuses to leave his face just yet. Hiroki feels his own face pull a frown in response and he winces internally. _How can Nowaki honestly ever think I'm cute, making such expressions all the time? _Though despite the fact it bothers him, Hiroki thinks Nowaki's own gentle frown is not unattractive. Such a realization hurtles a blush to his cheeks and Hiroki's train of thought revs back to full speed.

"Hiro-san, is something the matter?" Nowaki refuses to be dismissed. He has been with this man long enough now to know his is lover is thinking about something unsettling. By the look of it, the professor is thinking about something in the past, and that usually means one thing… or one person.

Nowaki pushes his uncomfortable thoughts to the back of his mind, finding relief in seeing the hint of pink at Hiroki's cheeks. These days that only means one thing… or one person.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Just dozed off is all. Did you get the salmon?" Hiroki straightens up as, with Nowaki leaning over him as he is, he is feeling the younger man's heat too close for comfort.

"Yes, Hiro-san. I'll start dinner now." Nowaki decides to let the matter drop. Forcing it won't get them anywhere but into an argument. Nowaki certainly doesn't want this for their first night at the new apartment; he only wants to baptize their new home with harmoniousness. He is about to stand up, but on impulse he leans forward and pecks Hiroki's soft lips.

Hiroki's eyes widen, his pinking cheeks turning reddish. Nowaki smiles triumphantly. Before the professor gains his composure, Nowaki quickly stands up and heads to the kitchen, grinning happily.

"Damn brat," Hiroki mutters under his breath. He watches as a beaming Nowaki sets about his tasks unpacking the bags he's set on the counter.

_That face...and that body... nothing feminine about them. The two of us... nothing traditional about us either. But I am happy. We are happy._

Feeling Hiroki's eyes on him, Nowaki looks up from the salmon and finds Hiroki staring at him unblinkingly. Nowaki feels rather unnerved by this open gaze. His beloved professor not looking away, instead, watching him with such intensity. Nowaki is captivated. It is not often that Hiro-san looks at him without restraint. He can feel the foreign heat of embarrassment creeping up into his own cheeks.

Nowaki's gaze meets Hiroki's. He notices the tender affection pouring out from those amazing brown eyes. His heart feels like bursting. Suddenly he knows what Hiroki is thinking...and saying.

"I love you too, Hiro-san," Nowaki murmurs softly. He might as well have said it out loud in front of a crowd in a baseball game judging from the deep red filling Hiroki's lovely face.

"Idiot..." Hiroki lowers his eyes, glad his partner understands him so well. He sighs one last time and though he knows he may never see the marriage of their hearts validated by his family or society, he makes his own silent vow of commitment in that instant to his long-hoped for, but never expected partner.

_Our days start here, now. Rain or sun, come what may. This is not anyone else's dream, this is mine. And ours._

**X X X X X X X X X X X X X **

**Notes from Panda on this fic:**

**So basically, the idea is, in their first night together in the new apartment, Hiroki is leaning on the couch, the item that they chose/bought together, and is traveling to the past, present and future. Thus, the use of the tenses.**

**I didn't mean it to be a two-part story, but the couch wanted its story told. I just wanted to show that the couch is the only item in the apartment that they both agreed upon, while the others might be Hiroki's or Nowaki's personal belongings/preferences. I also think it's nice for Hiroki to have something that solid as a support in his mental journey. **

**This chapter is actually what I had in mind for Faye's story. You can read Faye's original at : fanfiction . net/s/4892453/2/Such_Great_Heights.**

**The couch story kind of evolved from the first time I imagined it, then the first time writing it, and it ended up like this. As you can see, this chapter bears almost the same pattern as the previous from start to finish. **

**Now, allow me to present this little two part fic to Cerberus and The Black Flamingo 101 as a late cyber-wedding gift. I wish you a happy and long-lasting cyber-life together. May you two amazingly talented individuals be blessed with wonderful literary children.  
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**X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X**

**Cerberus's notes on this fic:**

**So it seemed particularly poignant to post this chapter today, as it is in a way about the Egoists unrecognized "marriage," that Nowaki's proposal and the new apartment symbolize to the couple. Hiroki discusses it these terms himself, both in the anime and the manga.**

**This feels especially significant when in my own country North Carolina has just decided to ban not only gay marriage but also to refuse to even acknowledge domestic partnerships for both gay and hetero couples. This is going to affect the benefits and families of a lot of people.**

**Personally I am not a fan of marriage, (outside of cyber-commitments to brilliant black Birds), but I believe if that is what two people want, regardless of their sex (or species, in the Bird and my case), it should be allowed. **

**While my heart is heavy with the weight of my fellow citizens' bigotry, on the plus side President Obama just said today that he is personally supporting same sex marriage now. This is a stance he was previously unwilling to take and state so clearly. So we'll have to wait and see what happens with this... **

**You know fifty years ago in this country, you could be put in jail for being gay ****and castration was a commonly recommended method of treatment for this "disorder."**** Being homosexual was considered a mental illness until 1973, when it was finally removed from the DSM. I know this from tales told to me by my gay "fathers." Things will hopefully continue change for the better, but for those waiting... it is still very painful.**

**Sorry for waxing political here, but as I said... a significant day for posting this particular chapter. Thank you for reading.**

**Hope to hear from you!**


	8. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter I

**So this is a multi-chaptered fic… and completed (Hooray!) So for once I am not going to tease you with cliff hangers with long waits between chapters. **

**A dear, very-talented and brilliant reader/reviewer, who wishes to only be known as "Panda," sent me the outline for this story recently and I was compelled to write it.**

**This said, I feel slightly awkward calling myself the author of this piece as the whole concept was laid out for me start to finish. I just put some meat on her beautiful bones as it were. So if anything Panda and I were co-author's on this.**

**Panda has a wonderful grasp of Egoist psychology and a reverence and respect for the couple that is hard to surpass, though she does occasionally fall to fangirling (but come on, it's the Egoists… who can blame her?). Anyway I have tried to hold the piece in keeping with her wonderful sensibilities and if the flavor of the text is just a bit more crisp than usual, that's why.**

**I hope you enjoy it. If you do, please drop a review to let her and I know, as I am hoping it will encourage her to keep going in this collaborative vein.**

**Cerberus**

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><p><strong>Egoist Pandamonium<br>**

**New Arrangements: Act I**

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><p>Kamijou Hiroki was asking himself how it had come to be that on a perfectly good Saturday he found himself currently standing behind the counter of the florist's shop where Nowaki worked (wearing a pale blue apron no less), rather than spending it cozily, if antisocially, ensconced in his apartment, reading one of the numerous texts he'd recently acquired.<p>

The truth was that though he and Nowakihad been going out for almost two years now, between studies and schedules, the amount of time they got to spend together was relatively minimal. They had managed, however, to spend the previous night together, Nowaki sleeping over, and that morning Hiroki had found himself wishing to linger in his lover's company.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

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><p>"So I guess you have a full weekend then?"<p>

Hiroki was trying to sound casual, after thanking Nowaki for making him yet another amazing breakfast. How it was that Nowaki managed to find the things he did in his neglected cupboards, to put together the meals he made when he stayed over never ceased to amaze Hiroki.

"Mmmm," Nowaki hummed over his chopsticks, acknowledging the truth of Hiroki's statement.

"I have to work at the flower shop today Hiro-san," Nowaki sighed rather regretfully. "Yamada-san's niece is getting married and he's left me in charge of the store today so that he can attend the ceremony."

"Oh, is that so?" Hiroki dropped his eyes quickly to his rice bowl to cover his disappointment.

He'd just turned in a major draft for his thesis and had a small window before the weight of his classes threatened to crush him again, so he found himself with the rare day off. Mentally Hiroki was now kicking himself for even entertaining the notion that Nowaki might have some free time too. With his own studies, in addition to his multiple jobs, Nowaki was often busier than him these days.

Across the low table, Nowaki suddenly cocked his head in that particular way that indicated he'd just grasped a bit of Hirokian subtext. His eyes lit up when he realized that just perhaps his aloof boyfriend had been missing him a bit.

"But if you're free, Hiro-san, maybe you would come help me at _Flower Art_? I'm sure Yamada-san wouldn't mind. I mean, I have to make his deliveries for him, so I would be out of the shop quite a bit. But we could have the time in between these and eat lunch together."

"You drive Nowaki?"

Hiroki was shocked when Nowaki shrugged in assent. His brows rose at this new information. It had struck him more than once that Nowaki seemed to be a fount of never ending talents. He himself had never even been behind the wheel of a car, though Akihiko used to threaten him with driving lessons when they were teenagers.

"Yamada-san has a van I drive sometimes for big deliveries, like weddings, but I don't have anything that major today, so I'll probably just be using the shop's motorcycle." Nowaki offered nonchalantly, reaching for his tea cup.

Hiroki shifted a bit, trying not to linger on the idea of Nowaki on a motorcycle. He imagined the florist's bike would be humble, but the images this thought provoked were arousing nonetheless. Hiroki picked at a steamed vegetable he couldn't remember seeing in his fridge before, let alone buying, in an attempt to distract himself from the stirring sensation in his groin.

"What would I have to do to help?" Hiroki asked somewhat hesitantly, liking the idea of having even just a little more time with Nowaki, but immediately feeling nervous about what would be expected of him.

"Oh it will be easy for you Hiro-san, just answering the phone and taking orders. Maybe make a bouquet or two. I can show you how!" Nowaki's eyes gleamed with delight at the prospect.

Seeing Hiroki's rising trepidation, he quickly amended, "But, Hara-kun will be there too and he can do most everything, and I know Yamada-san was nervous about having to leave the boy in charge of the shop while we were both out. I am sure that he'd be tremendously thankful to know there was someone older and responsible there while I'm gone."

This last little bit was the perfect stroke to Hiroki's sense of pride.

"I don't know," Hiroki looked back down at his bowl. "I'm awfully busy myself."

"I understand, Hiro-san."

Looking up quickly when Nowaki said this, Hiroki worried that his false reticence had just cost him the opportunity.

"But it would really help me," Nowaki added sounding slightly disappointed. Hiroki, however, saw the sly glint in the younger man's eye that told an entirely different tale.

_Cheeky bastard,_ he thought to himself.

Still he wasn't about to let the possibility really slip away. "I suppose I could re-arrange some things if it would help you," Hiroki mumbled, lifting his rice bowl higher to hide the blush that had suddenly blossomed on his cheeks.

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><p><strong>Please Review...<strong>


	9. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter II

**Egoist Pandamonium**

** New Arrangements: Act II**

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><p>So, now Hiroki stood a few hours later, aproned, behind the arranging table, his irritation growing in equal measure with his anxiety.<p>

Nowaki had shown him around the shop, though it wasn't as if hehadn't been there before. He came in occasionally to pick Nowaki up when he wasn't stalking him from the coffee store window across the street.

While working in retail was completely beyond Hiroki's experience (as were most work activities not related to academics) for the most part, everything seemed completely doable. He could manage being polite to customers and answering the phones cordially for a reasonable amount of time; the cash register he'd quickly deciphered; and there was a bit of paperwork to be filed, which Hiroki knew he'd whip through in no time.

Putting together a bouquet, however, was turning out to be another matter entirely.

Nowaki had brought out the large training box of silk flowers and had opened and shown Hiroki the general catalog with all the shop's standard arrangements, then he'd set about instructing him in how to go about putting the bouquets together.

It wasn't that Nowaki was a bad teacher. He was excellent in fact, Hiroki noted, adding this to his boyfriend's column of never ending skills. Nowaki went over how to trim the stems and clip the leaves in that patient gentle way of his. He even put one or two simple designs together in demonstration.

And it wasn't as if Hiroki knew nothing about flowers either. Growing up, his mother had belonged to a local Ikebana society and had required him to help her in her gathering. As a result of this forced participation in his mother's hobby he'd gone on a botany kick for a time and had spent a whole summer memorizing as much about the flora of Japan as was possible. So in truth, he actually understood a great deal about all the various blossoms cognitively.

With his voracious appetite for knowledge Hiroki learned not only scientific names, distinguishing features, and growing regions and seasons, but also the symbolism of each flower and its variations. But combining all this knowledge in any way that was even slightly aesthetically pleasing, simply just wasn't happening.

Studying his newest failure, Hiroki frowned.

"I'm sure you'll get it, Hiro-san." Nowaki smiled encouragingly. "After all you understand poetry."

This only deepened Hiroki's scowl. "What in the hell does sticking a bunch of roses in a vase have to do with poetry?" He muttered, poking at the tangled leaves dejectedly as he watched Nowaki amble over towards a younger boy who had just entered the shop.

"Nowaki-senpai," the youth exclaimed with an enthusiasm that set Hiroki's teeth on edge.

"Hi, Hara-kun," Nowaki greeted. He watched the teenager set his pack behind the counter and don his apron. "There's a bunch of boxes in the back that need to be unloaded."

"Who's the new guy?" Hara asked, nodding at Hiroki who was currently staring at his botched arrangement as though it was somehow possible to scowl the flowers into a pleasing order.

Hara looked at the mess in Hiroki's vase and snickered.

"Why don't you have _him_ unload the boxes?" Hara snorted. "He certainly doesn't seem to have the talent for bouquets." His humorous tone carried just the barest hint of resentment. This new guy didn't look any older than him and, even if that wasn't the case, he at least had seniority over this new clerk, though he'd only been working for Yamada-san a little more than a month himself.

Now while Nowaki knew Hiroki was perfectly capable of such a task, after all he'd watched Hiroki move large boxes of books on numerous occasions; he didn't feel comfortable thinking about his lover performing manual labor. Somehow it warred with his image of his ivy-league scholar…Though there were times Hiroki's irascibility rendered him far from genteel.

Looking back at his lover fussing over his chaotic flowers, the store's apron never previously striking him as quite so adorable before, Nowaki felt himself glow.

"Ah… Hiro-san's not going to be working here. He's my… um friend…" Nowaki's glow dimmed slightly at the word. But he knew that while he was perfectly comfortable using the "B" word, even after two years, Hiro-san was far more touchy about it. "Anyway, he just came in for fun… and to help out since Yamada-san is gone."

"Yeah, it sure looks like he's having fun." Hara laughed softly observing the seemingly ever-deepening furrow on Hiroki forehead. Nowaki smiled at the observation.

"Come on, Hara-kun. I'll introduce you."

They walked over to the table where Hiroki was standing.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki beamed. "This is my new co-worker, Hara Kentarou. Hara-kun, this is my friend Kamijou Hiroki."

"Nice to meet you," Hiroki muttered offering a polite bow, though he was obviously distracted.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, Kamijou-san, I guess we're going to be working together today, eh?"

Hiroki nodded and gave a mild grunt, his attention obviously still focused on his failure.

Sensing there was little chance for conversation here, Hara looked at Nowaki. "I guess I'll go get started on those boxes, Senpai," he sighed. Nowaki nodded and smiled at this.

As he moved towards the back of the store, Hara turned and looked at the two men.

"Come on Hiro-san, let's try another arrangement," Nowaki encouraged.

Looking between the pair, Hara was perplexed. While his senpai was always pleasant and smiling he couldn't ever recall seeing Nowaki so obviously happy. At the same time, the expression on Kamijou-san's face was so sour. He wondered what could have ever enticed the two to be friends; they seemed so completely opposite each other.

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><p><strong>Please Review!<br>**


	10. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter III

**Egoist Pandamonium**

** New Arrangements: Act III**

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><p>Nowaki had left some time ago to make a couple deliveries.<p>

As Hiroki had surmised, he had made quick work of the filing. He'd also taken a few orders by phone but was more than happy to allow Hara to deal with the actual physical customers.

In particular, the boy seemed to relish all the high school girls who stopped in, many who apparently were looking for Nowaki, hoping he was there working.

Despite the fact Hiroki generally found high-schoolers (well really actually most people) annoying, he couldn't help but feel a bit of relief too, knowing from the way Hara was flirting with the girls there was no way he would be interested in Nowaki. Not that he was really all that worried: Nowaki's faithfulness was the one area of his life where he had great confidence. Though it still pissed him off when other people chased after his giant, which happened often.

With most of the tasks Nowaki had set out for him attended to and the shop momentarily quiet, Hiroki drifted back to the arranging table. He took more flowers from the box, grabbed another vase from the shelf under the table, and opened the catalog to a new page. Determined, he set out once more to try and come up with something suitable.

As the last gaggle of giggling girls had recently left, now bored, Hara ambled over to the table. He watched Hiroki with a slight grin of amusement twisting his lips.

"Aren't you tired of that yet?" he asked in a teasing tone. This was not the first time Hiroki had returned to the table since Nowaki had left.

Hiroki raised his hazel eyes and frowned, though he remained silent. He had better things to do than waste time exchanging words with an insolent kid. He was a man on a mission, committed now to conquering the flowers.

Hara stood there arms crossed over his chest as he watched Hiroki struggle through three more failed attempts. Finally he placed his palms down on the table and leaned in.

"Why don't you just give up Kamijou-san? It's obvious you're never going to get it. Face it, some people have it and others don't and _you_ obviously fall into the don't category."

Hiroki didn't acknowledge the taunt: this was Nowaki's workplace and he didn't want to do anything that would make it difficult for his boyfriend later. Still, his left eye had immediately developed a dangerous twitch.

If Nowaki had been there he would have been yelling at Hara to run.

Fortunately for the teenager, Nowaki chose that exact moment to return from his deliveries. He was carrying a takeout bag. More than the sack however, Hiroki was interested in the fact Nowaki was still wearing the black motorcycle helmet. It was the first thing to really distract him from his struggles since he'd started.

Nowaki undid the chinstrap, and pulled off the helmet. His thick black hair was sexily mussed. He had left off his apron for the deliveries and was standing there in his usual uniform of faded bluejeans and a tight black tee-shirt.

Blushing, Hiroki dropped his eyes. He knew exactly now what image he'd be recalling the next time Nowaki was absent and he was playing his instrument "solo" as it were.

"I stopped by Pandasan on the way and picked up some lunch for us Hiro-san," Nowaki beamed. "I got some for you too Hara-kun."

Hiroki had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping that Nowaki shouldn't be spending his hard-earned money on take out, let alone buying extra to feed ill-mannered brats.

It annoyed him sometimes that Nowaki was constantly thoughtful like that. It also bothered him that he wasn't more like this himself, but those kinds of gestures just didn't come naturally.

In truth though, he was hungry and the aromas coming from the bag were enticing. So Hiroki set his ire aside and went to join Nowaki at the counter. He promised himself he'd find some way to make it up to the giant later.

Much to Hiroki's disappointment, Hara pulled up a stool too and sat at the counter with them. Hiroki said nothing about this though and knew already Nowaki wouldn't either. It just wasn't in his boyfriend's nature to be exclusionary.

Hiroki listened to the teen begin to chatter before Hara had even sat down and was surprised at the difference in the boy's tone when he was talking to "Nowaki-senpai." Gone was the antagonistic air and blatant posturing. It was obvious that Hara admired his senpai .

Hiroki sometimes wished that he could engender this same kind of response in those around him, that was, until he remembered that would mean he would actually have to like people. So rather than this, he had learned to take pleasure in other people's response to his boyfriend.

This enjoyment however came to screeching halt at Hara's next words.

Hara had been talking with quite some animation about school. And, as Nowaki had never been to high school, he was extremely interested in what Hara had to say.

It was a topic that held no charm for Hiroki, however. His memories of it were not pleasant and mostly consisted of studying, competing, and the ever-present ache of his longing for Akihiko. (Not that, outside of the Akihiko thing, which he'd finally managed to nip in the bud when he'd met Nowaki, his life had really changed all that much).

"God, you can't believe what my Japanese teacher is making us read." Hara moaned. "We're having to spend the next two weeks reading and discussing _Botchan _by Soseki*. It's so dumb… what a complete waste of time Senpai."

Hara stopped his lament only long enough to take another big mouthful of take out. "I mean who cares about some stupid story about a teacher written by a guy who's been dead for almost a hundred years?"

Nowaki's eyes widened at this. He looked cautiously over at Hiroki preparing for an outburst. Even more disconcerting than the anger he expected though was Hiroki's silence.

Hara sat back a bit when he felt Hiroki's intense hazel eyes upon him.

Dropping his eyes, Hiroki said softly, "_Tis the good reader that makes the good book… in every book he finds passages which seem to be confidences or sides hidden from all else and unmistakably meant for his ear; the profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader; the profound thought or passion sleeps as in a mine, until it is discovered by an equal mind and heart."**_

Then he raised his gaze again. Though his body was completely still, the fire in Hiroki's dark orbs was furious.

"All art is a cry against an artist's mortality and our experience of it, a respite from our own. Tell me Hara-san, a hundred years after you're gone, what will the world have to remember you by? What rich legacy will you leave behind?"

With this Hiroki pushed himself up from back from the counter and turned away.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki said with a tone of concern.

"I'm done. I'm not hungry anymore." Hiroki moved back over to the arranging table, picking up his silk flowers once more.

Hara was stunned. He'd never heard another teenager talk that way. Obviously what he'd said about the book had upset Kamijou. Hiroki's words stuck in his mind: the way he'd wielded them, Hara had felt their power. Suddenly he felt more than a little convicted.

"What's with him?" Hara whispered.

Nowaki noted the set of Hiroki's jaw as his lover picked up yet another vase. "It's nothing personal Hara-kun," he said kindly. "Hiro-san just really likes books."

Knowing it would be best to give Hiro-san a bit of space for a bit to ensure there wasn't some kind of delayed explosion, Nowaki tried to divert Hara's attention. "So tell me again about that girl in your science class you liked."

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><p><em>*<em>**So I know this novel, Botchan ****by Natsume Soseki,**** is lower level than the high school that Hara is in, but when you look at the summary of its content below, you can see why Hiroki would resonate with this text as he prepares to go into teaching and with his reverence for education.**

"_Botchan __by Natsume Soseki (1867 to 1916-Tokyo) is one of the most read of all Japanese novels. It is pretty much required reading in the later years of elementary school in Japan. Soseki is one of the first "modern" Japanese novelists. He is most famous for his __I Am a Cat, Kokoro __and __Botchan. _

_Botchan __is considered to be based on the author's experience as an elementary school teacher. The title character has just obtained his college degree, in physics, and has secured a good job teaching at a private elementary school. The novel is kind of a combination of a coming of age story and a morality play with different characters representing different outlooks on the rapid changes overtaking Japan in the early years of the 20th century._

_Botchan himself stands for conservative traditional values of old school Japan. One of his fellow teachers represents the Bushido tradition of total loyalty to the Emperor and one at another extreme is meant to be an intellectual very influenced by the current thinking in Europe. Another teacher is seen just as a follower of any popular trend. One of the teachers is a very brooding deeply thoughtful person. _

_The story also uses the bad behavior of the students to symbolize the falling away of young people from traditional Confucian values of extreme respect for teachers."_

SOURCE: .

*** Also I know Hiroki should be quoting someone Japanese, but I'm lazy and this quote I know.**

_'Tis the good reader that makes the good book… in every book he finds passages which seem to be confidences or sides hidden from all else and unmistakably meant for his ear; the profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader; the profound thought or passion sleeps as in a mine, until it is discovered by an equal mind and heart. _

**Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) U.S. poet, essayist and lecturer **


	11. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter IV

**Egoist Pandamonium**

** New Arrangements: Act IV**

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><p>Nowaki and Hara passed the rest of their lunch in mild conversation. Hiroki, in the meantime, continued to wrestle with his flowers in combative silence.<p>

After they finished eating, Nowaki left to make a few more deliveries, leaving Hiroki and Hara alone in the store once more.

The afternoon was uncommonly quiet and after what Kamijou had said to him, Hara found himself pulling out his pack from behind the counter and getting out the homework that he'd usually ignore until the last minute.

In between helping the occasional customer, the teen continued to work on his school assignments. Periodically he'd find himself glancing up however, his eyes pulled to where Hiroki was still striving to come up with a suitable arrangement.

Finally the boy could no longer help himself. He picked up the day's order forms from the counter, moved over to the table, and stood there quietly watching, his demeanor far more subdued.

"Why do you keep going, Kamijou-san?" Hara's tone was politely curious. "I mean, most people would have long given up by now."

Sharp hazel eyes looked up regarding him or a moment before drifting back down.

Hiroki's feet were tired from standing for hours on the hard concrete floor of the shop; the light scent of the flowers, which was pleasant initially, now threatened him with a headache.

"Maybe I'm just not most people," Hiroki growled. He stepped back and sighed looking at his latest disaster. "Anyway, it's not like I'd expect _you_ to understand my reasons."

Hara frowned at this answer as he flipped through the order slips and located the simpler arrangements he knew he could manage. He brought out a vase from under the table and set about getting the flowers for the order. He worked side by side with Kamijou in silence as he put his first bouquet together his eyes occasionally flickering over to Hiroki, who had once again resumed arranging.

The teen finished his first order relatively quickly. As he was working, he'd remembered how much he himself had struggled with arranging, how clueless he'd been about flowers, how many times he'd thrown his hands up in frustration and walked away from the table when he'd first started, only to have Senpai coax him gently back again later.

_I'm pretty good, at least with the basic arrangements,_ Hara thought: thanks to Nowaki Senpai's patient tutelage. Recalling how kind Nowaki had been with him, a hot blush of shame filled his cheeks at his harsh teasing of the one standing quietly beside him.

Hara stopped and turned to Hiroki, who had stepped back again from his latest attempt. "May I?" he asked hesitantly.

Hiroki studied the boy from under his frown, looking for any signs of new malice. Seeing none, at last he finally shrugged.

"Please yourself."

Hara leaned over and made a few minor adjustments, which, despite how minimal they really were, actually seemed to improve the arrangement immeasurably. Hiroki shifted his tense mouth to the side. He cocked his head slightly absorbing the difference.

"Senpai told me when I started, to think about someone I really cared about and make the bouquet as though I was going to be giving it to that person," Hara offered, his tone helpful and not haughty.

"He said to think about how happy the person receiving them will be. I think about different people, my mama, my grandma, a girl I like, but Senpai says he makes all his bouquets for the same person."

Hara picked up his bouquet and headed towards the walk-in-cooler to store it. "Say, since you're his friend, do you know who it is? I mean, from the way he talks I'm pretty sure the person is Senpai's girlfriend. She must be something really special."

Hiroki's cheeks were blushing fiercely at this point.

"I don't know anything about a girlfriend." This wasn't a lie exactly.

Hara shrugged at this and headed off with his arrangement.

As soon as the boy left, Hiroki dumped the flowers out of the last vase he'd just finished and started over. His expression was contemplative, his forehead unfurrowed. He thought about Nowaki's earlier comment about poetry in light of what Hara had just said, and a slight smile perked one side of his mouth at his giant goof's wisdom.

What was poetry but a careful arrangement of elements to convey sentiment? Considering this, how easy it was then to see each blossom as a word, every sprig a bit of punctuation to create an ephemeral moment of visual verse.

When Hara emerged from the back a short time later, where he'd gotten delayed reorganizing the cooler, he was stunned by the arrangement that greeted him on the table in front of Hiroki. The teen couldn't help but express his amazement.

"Wow… where did that come from?" He stepped over and ran a finger over the silken petals in awe. "That's not even a pattern we carry in our catalog, right?"

Hiroki scowled, his cheeks blushed pink, both annoyed and pleased by the praise, he turned his eyes back to his practice bouquet. "I took your advice, it was helpful… Thank you," he said slowly the sincere tone of his voice ill-fitting his natural gruff growl.

Hara's eyes widened in surprise at this after what had happened earlier: maybe Nowaki's friend wasn't so sour after all. He noted that despite how coldly he conducted himself, the look in Kamijou's eye as he studied this last attempt had a certain soft warmth to it, very similar to the one his senpai got when he talked about his special person.

It seemed like a rather private moment Kamijou was having and Hara realized he felt both happy and embarrassed to be privileged to it. The teen looked away, a bit of a blush on his own cheeks and settled into work on his next arrangement.

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><p><strong>Please Review!<strong>


	12. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter V

**Egoist Pandamonium  
><strong>

** New Arrangements: Act V**

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><p>Hara looked up as he was getting finished with his second order and was surprised to see that Kamijou had gone back and pulled out all the real flowers to correspond to his last arrangement. The boy curiously watched him go over to the main counter, write out an order, pull out his wallet, and stick a number of bills in the till.<p>

As Hiroki was doing this, Hara looked back at the arranging table. His eyes moved over the dozen or more practice bouquets that Hiroki had constructed. For the first time, the teen noticed a definite progression in the arrangements, each one subtlety better than the last.

Looking at them again in their silken profusion, Hara realized that a number of the later ones really weren't that bad at all, just perhaps a bit mechanical, lacking the emotion that had transformed his last creation.

In all honesty the evolution of Hiroki's arrangements was actually quite impressive when Hara remembered that it had taken him several weeks to get to the place Hiroki was leaving off after just a day.

Even now, though he been working over a month, Yamada-san still left all the really complex arrangements to Nowaki or the owner did them himself, trusting him only with the basics. And Hara could not even imagine coming up with an original design like Kamijou just had.

Hara thought back to some of the words Kamijou had uttered at lunch: _the profit of books is according to the sensibility of the reader. _

_Perhaps there is truth in this for all words, not just in books,_ the teen thought, given the obvious attention Hiroki had paid to his advice and the amazing result this had yielded. Considering this, Hara decided he might try and pay a bit more attention to the words he encountered around him and that included _Botchan _as well.

Hara watched as Hiroki returned to the table. Hiroki carefully undid all his earlier arrangements and put the flowers back in their box. He returned the vases under the table. Then he took up the live flowers he'd just purchased and began to recreate his last practice bouquet. His manner was thoughtful as he did this, almost meditative.

Looking at the clock and realizing that it was getting close to time to closing, Hara began to clean up his area and go through the checklist of everything that needed to be done before leaving.

He had just finished this and was in the process of repacking his book bag when Nowaki finally returned from his last delivery.

"Are you all done for the day, Hara-kun?" Nowaki smiled at the boy as he set the motorcycle helmet on the counter.

"Yep, Senpai. And I went through the whole list for the closing, too."

Nowaki looked over at Hiroki, who was so absorbed in what he was doing he hadn't even noticed he had returned. He shifted his gaze from Hiroki to Hara.

"Everything went okay then? You didn't have any problems this afternoon?"

Hara understood immediately what it was Nowaki was asking. "No, Senpai, everything was fine, no troubles."

Nowaki let out a soft sigh at this. He looked back over at Hiro-san, his chest swelling slightly with pride at how well His lover had conducted himself. He felt a little bad however that Hiroki had spent the whole day at the shop and that they had been able to spend far less time together than he'd expected. He was considering this rather sadly when he suddenly looked up, realizing that Hara had been talking to him.

"I'm sorry, Hara-kun, what were you saying?"

Hara was looking at Nowaki strangely; the expression in his senpai's eyes as he'd been looking at Kamijou-san was a little unnerving: it was so tender.

"I said, when I first met Kamijou-san, I couldn't figure out why you two would ever be friends, but now I think I understand."

Nowaki looked at him with an expression of curious amusement. "Oh and why is that?"

"Well you two are actually quite a bit alike, serious, dedicated, and stubborn. Though I must say, with all respect, Senpai, you wear these better than Kamijou-san does." Hara offered his observation, a light blush pinking his cheeks as he spoke so plainly.

The giant was both surprised and pleased with these words. He laughed when Hara added, "Man, Kamijou-san better be careful, being so intense he's going to get wrinkles in his forehead by the time he's twenty."

"Hara-kun, Hiro-san is twenty-four," Nowaki chuckled.

"Wahhhhh?" The teen blushed hotter at this disclosure realizing how disrespectful he had been to someone older. "I… I thought he was my age."

"Whatever, his age," Nowaki said smiling, as Hiroki's eyes finally flickered up and caught his gaze for a moment before narrowing and looking away quickly, "Forehead wrinkles or not, Hiro-san is amazing."

Hara stared at Nowaki a moment more. His sharp teen eye had caught the glance exchanged between the two men. It shocked him to realize he suddenly knew who his senpai made all his arrangements for.

Nowaki turned back to Hara and understood somehow the boy now knew. He waited patiently to see how the youth would respond. When he realized Hara seemed at a bit of a loss. He smiled kindly.

"So it looks like you're all packed up, Hara-kun. Why don't you head off, I can finish closing the shop myself and I'll see you next week okay?"

Hara dropped his eyes to his pack blushing uncomfortably. "Um… sure thing, Senpai." After gathering his things he was almost to the door when he turned back.

"Um… Bye Kamijou-san. Maybe I'll see you around again sometime?"

Hiroki looked up from the counter where he was gathering the scraps from his cuttings. He offered an amicable nod. Hara returned this with an awkward smile and headed out the door his mind still reeling.

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><p><strong>Please Review!<br>**


	13. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter VI

**Egoist Pandamonium  
><strong>

** New Arrangements: Act VI**

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><p>Nowaki turned the open sign off after Hara departed. He locked the front door and went through the closing list quickly, just double-checking that the teen hadn't missed anything. Then he drifted over to the arranging table. His eyes widened at the rather stunning display Hiroki had crafted.<p>

"That's beautiful Hiro-san, I didn't even know we carried a design like that."

Hiroki swept the scraps in his hand into the bin and stepped back. Keeping his eyes on the floor he muttered, "You don't. It was a special order… the person wanted something custom."

"I can't believe you made something so wonderful, and after just one day. You're amazing, Hiro-san."

Stepping up behind Hiroki, Nowaki wrapped his arms around him from the back. "Thank you for coming here today Hiro-san, I'm just sorry we didn't have more time to spend together."

Hiroki grunted at this and then much, to his boyfriend's disappointment, began extricating himself, first from Nowaki's arms and then from the apron he was wearing. Without looking up, Hiroki asked, "So what are you doing tonight?"

"I was going to study this evening, why Hiro-san?" Nowaki was afraid to sound too hopeful.

"Your books are still at my apartment, aren't they?"

"Ummm."

"Well, since you obviously have to get them. Why don't we have dinner at my place and then we can study together this evening." Hiroki added with a nervous laugh, "If it ends up getting too late, you could just stay over again… I mean if you felt like it."

Nowaki beamed at this. This was maybe the first time Hiro-san had asked him to stay over for more than one night.

"Sure, Hiro-san, that sounds great. I can cook dinner for us. We should stop at the store on the way home and get a few things though. Is there something special you'd like me to fix?"

Hiroki, relieved that his pride had been spared, was pleased Nowaki agreed to this new arrangement so readily. He furrowed his brow as he considered the options. "Salmon maybe?"

"Oh, I know a great recipe for that!"

Nowaki was delighted to think about spending a whole other evening with his lover. Then his eyes dropped to the bouquet. He had a momentary pang at the thought that maybe Hiroki had made it for him. He asked, sounding almost shy,

"Ummm do we need to wait for the person to come pick this up?"

Hiroki shook his head. "Nope, this is a delivery."

"Can we drop it off on the way home then?" Nowaki very cautiously wielded the word "home."

"No, I'll deliver it. The address is in the direction of Sato's bookshop. I want to stop there and browse a bit. And there's a book they ordered for me that should be in."

"Still, I could come with you."

"No!" Hiroki growled. "You have your key right? So you get the groceries and start dinner and I'll be home in a bit."

Pulling out his wallet, he set some money for the fish and whatever else Nowaki might want to get on the table. Then he picked up the bouquet and moved towards the door, stopping just long enough to get his jacket from behind the counter.

Nowaki wanted to protest more and insist that he accompany Hiroki, but he knew that Hiro-san had been at the shop all day and that he probably needed some time to decompress. Besides, Nowaki knew that it annoyed his lover when he seemed clingy, so he always tried to do his best not to crowd Hiroki too much… despite how hard this was.

Nowaki sighed when the door closed after Hiroki made a rather hasty exit and he was left in the shop by himself. He reluctantly picked up the bills Hiroki had left for him to purchase their dinner.

As he stuck these in his wallet, he decided he'd better go over the closing list one more time and make a final check on the cooler before he left himself.

Nowaki supposed it should be enough that he was getting to spend two nights with his beloved and that Hiro-san had said "home," as well, was encouraging.

With these thoughts, his disappointment was slowly ebbing into something more contented. That was until he walked over to the register to pick up his coat from behind the counter. It was then he glanced down and saw the order for the bouquet Hiroki had made.

Nowaki felt like a heavy rock had suddenly been dropped into his stomach. The customer on the order was Kamijou Hiroki and the name of the recipient was Usami Akihiko.

He sat down heavily on the stool behind the counter. Of course, it all made sense now why Hiro-san wouldn't have wanted him to come. Usami-san's apartment was in the same general direction as the bookstore as well.

Crumpling the invoice in his hand, Nowaki suddenly felt frustrated.

Why in the hell would his boyfriend be making special bouquets and delivering them to an "ex"? Well, not really an "ex," as they had never truly been together, except that one time. Hiro-san had told him about it a while back after the man had a bit too much to drink one night.

Then Nowaki remembered Hiroki telling him the other day that the new novel Usami-san had recently published had just won some big award.

_That has to be it,_ Nowaki told himself, _otherwise why would Hiro-san have asked me to spend the night again?_

Sighing loudly, Nowaki stood back up. As much as he wanted to go after Hiro-san now and spy on him, he knew he was just going to have to trust him and hope for the best.

With one last glance around the shop, Nowaki issued another rather mournful sigh before heading out himself to go get the groceries for their dinner.

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><p><strong>Please Review!<strong>


	14. 5: New Arrangements: Chapter VII

** Egoist Pandamonium**

** New Arrangements: Act VII**

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><p>Later, at Hiroki's apartment, Nowaki was mechanically fixing their dinner. Seeing that invoice for Usami had given him a case of the blues he just couldn't shake.<p>

He remembered the last time Hiro-san had given him flowers.

_That was more than a year and a half ago, when I passed my placement tests._ Nowaki smiled sadly remembering how happy that had made him.

It wasn't as though he expected his boyfriend to lavish him with gifts and Nowaki knew that the giving of presents didn't come easy to Hiroki. That was why he cherished every little gesture offered: because he knew at what a high cost such things came to Hiro-san in terms of his pride.

Still, Nowaki had decided, he had the right to feel just a little bit stung. He was the one who had shown his lover how to put a bouquet together that very day, after all, only to gave Hiro-san go and give such an extraordinary arrangement to Usami.

_Of all people_.

He was still turning this over in his mind as he set the low table for dinner.

A soft knock at the door pulled Nowaki from his handsome brow furrowed.

_I wondered who that could be?_

In Nowaki's experience, Hiro-san rarely got visitors. He was considering if he should answer it when the knock occurred again, a bit louder this time.

Straightening himself, Nowaki headed for the door. He cracked it open a bit and called out hesitantly, "Yes, can I help you?"

An equally hesitant and far more muffled voice stammered back, "Uh I have a delivery for Kusama Nowaki."

As he opened the door, Nowaki felt a sense of confusion: he didn't even live at Hiro-san's apartment. He was stunned to find himself confronted with the amazing bouquet Hiroki had made at the shop. He watched with wide eyes as the flowers lowered, revealing a very adorably uncomfortable looking, brilliantly blushing Hiro-san.

"Hiro-san, are those really for me?"

Hiroki thrust the bouquet forward with a scowl. "Of course, Idiot. I'd never do something this stupid for anyone else!"

Nowaki looked at the bouquet with an expression of wonder.

"But then why did you put Usami-san's name on the order?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh... you saw that?"

Hiroki ran a hand through his hair nervously. He felt a bit bad realizing how that might have made Nowaki feel. He realized he could take one of two roads of response here: sheepish or self-righteous and opted for the latter. He looked at Nowaki with fierce hazel eyes.

"Well, you think I want your boss to go through his orders and see you have some guy sending you flowers all the time?" Hiroki snapped.

"Hiro-san, the last time you gave me flowers was over a year and a half ago."

"Exactly!" Hiroki huffed looking at Nowaki with bewilderment when his giant's expression remained slightly perplexed.

Finally, light went on in Nowaki's mind and he understood that Hiro-san's idea of frequency differed a bit from his own. Understanding this he couldn't help but grin at his paranoid lover.

Seeing how big the smile on Nowaki's face was, only made Hiroki blush harder.

Suddenly delighted now by how Hiroki had tricked him, Nowaki immediately glomped him and placed a passionate kiss on Hiroki's lips.

"Mmmph!" Hiroki gave him a hard shove backwards… "Not on the walkway, Dumb ass!

"Sorry Hiro-san," Nowaki said, immediately contrite.

Looking up a bit shyly, Hiroki blushed. "Uh… wait until we get inside."

Then seeing the lecherous look this immediately brought to Nowaki's face Hiroki growled, "Be careful though, you don't crush your flowers."

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><p><strong>Omake<strong>

Some time and a few hickeys later, Hiroki and Nowaki were seated at the low table eating their dinner in companionable silence.

Occasionally, however, Nowaki would glance over at the exquisite arrangement sitting on the end of the low table and beam, which would elicit a reciprocal blush from Hiroki if he noticed.

"So I guess if you stay, you'll have to leave pretty early tomorrow?" Hiroki was trying to sound casual, after thanking Nowaki for making him yet another amazing dinner. He felt very fortunate to have a lover who was such a good cook.

"Mmmm," Nowaki hummed over his chopsticks, acknowledging the truth this statement. "I have to work at the pet shop tomorrow Hiro-san," Nowaki sighed rather regretfully. "Hakura-san's grandmother died so he's put me in charge of the store so that that he can go to the funeral."

Hiroki watched as across the low table from him, Nowaki suddenly cocked his head. "But if you're free, Hiro-san, maybe you'd want to come help me again? I'm sure Hakura-san wouldn't mind.

Hiroki considered this, but only for a moment. He really wasn't a big fan of animals. And somehow, no matter how much he tried to make that clear, for some reason creatures of all kinds seemed to be magnetically drawn to him.

Nowaki had commented on it one time, saying it was just that the animals could see a soft heart more clearly than people. Expressing this out loud (what Hiroki had thought was a highly distressing idea) had earned Nowaki a light smack to the back of the head at the time (He was seated when he said it so Hiroki could easily reach him).

"No way!" Hiroki snorted after a pause. "I go help you at _Flower Art_ and end up bringing home a bouquet. If I spent a whole day with you at the pet store, who knows what in the hell I'd end up bringing home!"

Nowaki remained silent at this outburst, but he smiled at the possibilities of Hiroki's assertion and the fact he now had all night to convince his boyfriend to reconsider.

**The End**

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this and please consider dropping Panda and me a review.<br>**


	15. 6: Sweet Recollection

**It has been so long since I've posted here, this feels a bit strange. Just so you know, I have hit a bit of a rocky patch and am not writing at present, though I am continuing to upload my stories at your fanfiction . com (take out the spaces) under the pennames DontPreach and CerberusRevised**

**I am still reading on FF though and found myself wondering the other day what had happened to all the excellent Egoist writers who had been populating this fandom? (There's no Terrorist these days either it seems.) I had about given up hope when the lovely Panda sent me this piece as a cheer up present.**

**Just so you know this piece is all Panda. My contribution to this lovely fic which is the sequel to "The Dark and the Sweet" was about three words. **

**Panda wanted me to mention a special thanks in this piece to Ego and Psyche for her amazing reviews and said that these have helped spur her on to write.** **Though if I may interject myself, I would like to thank Kristinxx for her insightful review of "On the Level" also.**

**I hope you enjoy this. I certainly did. **

**Miss you all and hope to get back to updating soon.**

**Cerberus**

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><p><strong>Sweet Recollections<strong>

"Adults... what is up with them?" A ten-year-old Kamijou Hiroki muttered under his breath.

The young Kamijou was walking home from another music lesson, recalling his encounters with the "adults" that day that had made him rather introspective.

That morning at school, his PE teacher, a bright-looking man in his forties, had emphasized the importance of a healthy life. "Smoking will kill you faster than any bullet train."

During lunch break, Hiroki had found the man smoking in the roof.

When Hiroki scolded the older man to practice his own words, the teacher looked at him with wry amusement. "The world is not that black or white, Kamijou-kun. You will understand when you grow up."

_What's that supposed to mean?_

Arriving home, Hiroki had found to his utter surprise that his mother, despite her constant preaching of the value of money and of how much hard work must be put to earn a penny, had gone and bought a grand piano.

"It's for you, Hiro-chan. So you can practice better," she had said smilingly while fondly wiping the piano off of an imaginary dust.

Somehow Hiroki had difficulty believing that his benefits were first priority.

"I can practice with the piano at school. What happened with 'we must spend our money wisely'?" Hiroki hadn't meant to sound petulant. True, the Kamijou family was well-off, but the lady Kamijou had been raised with a grandfather that had survived the World War. Because of this, he had always exercised careful expense of his allowance.

"Ah, Hiro-chan, sometimes we can let ourselves enjoy the privilege of self-indulgence. Life is hard as it is and we should grab happiness when we come across it. You might not understand this now, but you will. Also, this beauty makes great sounds. Would you like to hear?" The lady didn't wait for her son's response and sat gracefully in front of the piano.

Hiroki wanted to further argue. The day before he had accidentally heard his mother confiding to his father that her friend in the ikebana society had recently come into the possession of the most exclusive Stradivarius, disregarding the fact that it had been found a hoax not long after. Hiroki was sure this had _everything_ to do with the majestic item in the living room.

However, once his mother started producing the sweetest and most delightful sounds he had ever heard (not even his piano tutor could produce sounds like that), the young Kamijou had been rendered speechless.

Engrossed as he was, Hiroki didn't realize his mother had stopped playing until he felt a gentle rub on his brown head.

"Hiro-chan is so adorable. Here, a present. For listening to me." The lady quickly offered her fair-skinned hand before Hiroki had the time to utter his usual "I'm not adorable" and "Don't call me –chan" retort.

Drawing himself back from the wondrous world of a heavenly-played Für Elise, Hiroki looked at what was on his mother's palm and frowned. "I don't like sweets."

The lady smiled, "Just because you don't like sweets doesn't mean you don't need it. A little sugar is good for your body. And heart." she winked.

"Huh?" The ten-year old further furrowed his brows.

Seeing Hiroki's incomprehension on the logic, the Lady smiled and continued, "you'll understand when you grow up. Now, just take it and off you go. You'll be late to _your_ piano lesson if you don't hurry."

"And whose fault is that?" Hiroki muttered under his breath, picking up the blue-colored package from the extended hand. At the door, he turned and saw his mother smiling.

"Just for the record, I'm not adorable. I'm ten years old." Then he added, "and I don't like sweets. But thank you." Hiroki nodded as he ignored the broadening smile on his mother's face at his exclamation and softly closed the door.

At the music center where he was taking piano lessons, on his way out of the building Hiroki had overheard a young instructor profusely praising a junior high school girl who had been practicing violin. Even at ten, he could tell that the girl played horribly.

Hiroki was aware that positive reinforcement was necessary in the teaching-learning process (the girl looked so nervous she had tears in her eyes), and so had wanted to begrudgingly let it pass. But he snapped when the instructor said, "you are the most gifted student in this institution."

Without further ado, Hiroki knocked at the open door and in a measured tone politely suggested that the instructor should get his ears checked and the girl should get a new instructor. It was not until he heard a forced cough from his side that he realized the girl's father had been watching.

The commotion arising from his well-meant intervention had kept him from going back home at his usual hour. He had been called to the center manager's office and received some "adult talk".

"We appreciate your being honest, Kamijou-kun, but there are things that can be said differently to make the truths feel less painful. You will understand when you grow up." The manager's smile did not reach his eyes when he said this. "It's late now, so you'd better get going."

_Again with the "You will understand when you grow up" crap!_

Hiroki wanted to further argue, but there was something in the way the manager looked that had stopped him. The older man seemed so weary. His eyes reminded Hiroki of a scene he had witnessed out in the neighborhood the other day of a man whose restaurant had been closed by force. He recalled the man standing out on the sidewalk with his weeping wife and wide-eyed children, telling his family that everything would be alright. Remembering this, Hiroki then decided to hold his fiery tongue and politely excused himself.

Not that he hadn't been seething all the way home.

_What is up with the adults these days... they say one thing and mean the other..._

His recent discoveries only added to his quickly thinning trust of "adults." The rumors of ghosts haunting the school after dark had been spread by the teachers so the students wouldn't linger (he was _not_ afraid of ghosts); when someone said "hate", they meant "love", (he had seen a senior high school girl shout this to a young man and, despite what she had said, the girl suddenly flung her arms around the man and they had kissed fervently... in public!); and that Santa Claus did not exist (Really? So why hang a huge red sock up at all?). Hiroki had no idea why the adults kept telling these so-called truths when they weren't the truth at all.

_Will I be that kind of adult? No, of course not. When I grow up, I will be a good and responsible adult. I will not lie and always say the things I want to say. I will use this experience as a life lesson so I won't make the same mistake. Yosh, Hiroki, you are ten years old now. You are no longer a kid. And you are the heir of the Kamijou House. You will be a responsible adult, starting now! _

Pleased with the resolution, Hiroki's pace picked up. He walked quickly down the quiet street until his eyes bumped into a bicycle with a flat tire leaning to the fence separating the street from the children's playground on the other side.

He frowned. _That needs to be fixed_, Hiroki thought to himself. Then he turned and saw a little boy with his head down sitting on the swing. Hiroki knew all children in the neighborhood and this one didn't seem to be any of them. His eyes went back to the bike. _No one else here, so this bike must be his_. Hiroki returned his gaze to the gloomy figure and frowned deeper.

_He looked lost._

"Hey, why is a kid like you staying out this late at night?" Hiroki called out and walked towards the other boy before he even realized what he was doing.

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><p>Hiroki opened his eyes in an instant. Darkness not uncomforting immediately struck him, while a warmth so comforting still enveloped him. He breathed out slowly. It was a dream.<p>

No, it wasn't exactly a dream. It was a piece of memory hidden deep deep down in his subconscious, under his growing pains, under his academic stress, under his happiness.

Hiroki grimaced at the significance of that particular memory resurfacing. He now recognized the sense of déjà vu when Director Kusama was telling him about Nowaki's childhood.

_We have met before. I've met Nowaki before_.

The stream of memories came flowing to Hiroki. He had been walking home from the piano lesson that day.

It hadn't been a particularly bright day for little Hiroki: school, kendo practice, home, piano lesson. His younger Kamijou self had been wondering about the true meaning of responsibility and maturity and what he was going to do in life. In other words, it had been a boring day.

When seeing "a lost puppy" at the playground, ten-year-old Hiroki had been intrigued that the boy, albeit smaller and seemingly younger, didn't show any sign of freaking out. Upon closer inspection, however, Hiroki's keen eyes noted the blank look and slump shoulders. At the boy's quietness, Hiroki did what he knew by experience on how to make a mute speak up. He started to talk.

And talk. And talk.

Until the boy's stomach gave a loud growl. Hiroki would have never guessed that a candy his mother had insisted he take before leaving home would come handy.

_You'll understand when you grow up_. His mother had been right. They all had been right. He now understood. Everything about that day had led him to that park. Just like everything in his life had led him to today. To Nowaki.

The silent revelation hung quietly in the air. Hiroki breathed in slowly, absorbing the bubbles of joy that rose in him.

It was funny.

Nowaki had fallen in love with him at the sight of his miserable despair. While he as a child had approached the boy at the playground at the sight of his sad head. Adult Nowaki had met a rejected Hiroki. Little Hiroki had met a dejected Nowaki. They both had been drawn to each other when each was in the most vulnerable state.

With this realization the joy bubbles popped, flooding his chest with a pleasant warmth.

Hiroki moved his head a little. Nowaki's warm lips immediately made contact with the skin on his neck. _So close_, Hiroki mused, hints of blush creeping up his cheeks.

Hiroki breathed in slowly again to try to control himself. He didn't want Nowaki to wake up. The fact that Nowaki remained asleep when he had woken with a start earlier bespoke of the doctor's tiredness. It had been a long day for both of them.

On their way home from the Kusama orphanage that afternoon, the couple had been quiet. While Nowaki had had his "fun" with his "family", Hiroki had had his "private meeting" with Nowaki's "father".

However, Hiroki knew that more than anything else, the thing that had made Nowaki particularly quiet was the fact that Hiroki had read the poem. Despite the fact the younger man had played it off at the time, knowing full well of his professor's superb ability to read between the lines, Nowaki must have felt terribly exposed.

Hiroki found this so endearing.

He had wanted to shrug off the issue, acted as if nothing had happened. But the moment Nowaki had quietly closed the door of the apartment behind him, Hiroki had turned to look at his lover and to his surprise saw the swirl of storm in the eyes he loved so much.

They'd locked gazes yet again.

Hiroki couldn't remember who moved first. The next thing he known, he and Nowaki were exchanging kisses of comfort, touches of assurance, embraces of love.

_I haven't even put away that Shakespeare book in the library_, Hiroki grimaced.

Nowaki stirred.

Hiroki quickly controlled his breathing... and his body. He didn't want more excitement.

Nowaki tightened his hold on him, as if sensing that Hiroki was no longer in dream land and wanting to drag him back. Then he stilled, body relaxed.

Hiroki let out the breath he had been holding. He moved his head down to see his Nowaki. Even in the dark, Hiroki was sure that the eyes were closed, the eyelashes lightly brushed his tender skin.

Those eyes.

_Nowaki's eyes are different now_. Hiroki recalled the Director's words. Even in his perpetual insecurities, Hiroki had to admit it was true. Nowaki's eyes in that photograph bore only endurance and weariness. Simply dark and almost lifeless.

Hiroki had been surprised to see it. That day at the park seven years ago (though now he knew it wasn't their first meeting), Nowaki's eyes had already glittered with warmth and determination. Later on, once they became lovers, those two orbs often (if not always) sparkled with love and vitality, making the dark eyes seem blue under the light.

There were times when those eyes would show confusion and hide disappointment, like when he rfused to take a bath together. But one word from him, or one gesture, however feeble, would immediately return the sparkle.

Hiroki's heart, just like the earlier rising encapsulations of joy he'd experienced, felt like bursting with all it contained. _Nowaki is not a little sugar. He's so big he'll be the only sugar I'll ever need for the rest of my life_. Hiroki slowly ran his free hand down Nowaki's gently rising and falling side. Nowaki stirred again, then stilled when Hiroki stopped his movement. The sleeping giant's warm breaths puffed to Hiroki's neck, his lips still lightly kissing Hiroki's skin. Hiroki looked at the dark head tenderly.

_So, what now? Should I tell him that I knew him before? _

Even the thought of him admitting to Nowaki of such an embarrassing thing was enough to spread his blush down to his toes.

_Not in a million years!_

A slow smile broke Hiroki's lips. He hugged his giant closer, drowning his nose on the silky black hair, drawing in the lovely scent of his Nowaki.

_Nowaki, nice to meet you again._

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading. Please review.<strong>


	16. 7: Teen Nowaki: Volume I

**Cerberus' AN:**

**Hello All, **

**I know it's been a long time since this series has been updated. I feel badly for this, as Panda has sent me a number of wonderful episodes and I have been selfishly hoarding them. But in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I have decided to share the bounty.**

**Panda writes with a wonderful flare and I try to keep her pieces as intact as possible when I go through and make my little tweaks and additions. I love her work because in my mind it really reads so much like a true manga episode. She also often likes to create her fics in response to other FF writers and I am pleased to say that this piece was done in response to my one gender bent piece, "Teen Hiroki."  
><strong>

**Anyway, please enjoy and drop a review. I know she lurks out there in the fandom and that your words bolster her immensely.**

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><p><strong>Egoist Pandamonium<strong>

**Teen Nowaki**

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><p>Nowaki sat gratefully. His body ached from the excessive strain he had been forced to endure since early morning.<p>

Here at his usual place by the river bank, though the water was boisterous, it was quiet, save for the distinct noises of late afternoon insects and distant city activity. Nowaki sighed in relief: he really needed the peace.

Out of habit, he turned his gaze to the small shadowy space under the bridge a few meters away, blissfully protected from the sun. When he was younger, that had been his "safe place." But teen Nowaki had come to befriend the light. He was no longer a child who shied away from it.

Feeling far more relaxed now, he lay down on his back, stretching out on the still-warm grass. He breathed in and out with relish. As Nowaki concentrated on taking slow deep breaths, he cast his mind back over the events of the day.

He'd just had his graduation from junior high school: quite a festive affair.

The principal's speech, "The future is in your hands," had been no doubt lost on a good portion of the students. So many of them had seemed entirely caught up in an emotional frenzy, realizing that, with the conclusion of the ceremony, they would be separating from their classmates after three years' worth of friendship.

Not to mention the frantic last-ditch attempts of unrequited amours confessing at last to unsuspecting love interests.

Nowaki sighed. Despite the sun, a shadow of gloom settled upon him, suddenly darkening his youthful face. He absent-mindedly caressed his uniform. His fingers circled the second button in particular. He was relieved that it was still there.

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><p>"Um... Kusama-kun, would it be possible for you to give me your second button after graduation?" Kawaguchi Rika, a classmate, asked. Her voice slightly quivered, but she stood her ground: it was now or never.<p>

"Eh?" Nowaki was taken aback. He was far from vain, but he had understood for quite a while now that his appearance and build seemed to attract female attention. He'd had some very pretty girls confess to him during junior high and always felt terrible rejecting them, but he had too many duties and secret part-time jobs to have time to entertain any thoughts of romance. His energy was completely spent on his survival.

"Ah, I'm sorry if this is too sudden," Rika's words were rushed as she dropped her eyes.

Her hopes rose a little when Nowaki was silent and did not immediately object.

"I... um... I like you, Kusama-kun. Since we're not going to the same high school, I was wondering if I can have your second button as a memento.

"Ah, I don't mean that we should go out or anything... I mean, I would love to go out with you... erm... but... what I'm trying to say is... erm..."

Rika's voice faltered. The stiff silence was finally getting to her. She braced herself and looked up.

The strangely dark expression on the usually cheerful, calm face she'd known for the last three years came as a shock. She actually found it frightening. Unconsciously, she gulped and stepped back.

Nowaki quickly registered this and quickly pulled himself together.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Kawaguchi-san." Nowaki winced at the formality: he'd difficulty remembering and kept addressing her that way despite Rika's insistence he call her by her given name.

"Kawaguchi-san, thank you for telling me this. I am terribly sorry that I didn't notice it earlier. I am very, very sorry.

"About the button, uh... you see, I'm not going to high school. I've decided to work after graduation. I already have some part-time jobs as it is. That's why I can't go out often.

"What I mean is… This uniform will be the only formal attire I have for a while, so I'm very sorry but I cannot part with it."

It was the truth, but even so, Nowaki knew how lame his excuse sounded in comparison with Rika's heartfelt request.

In all honesty, Nowaki was disappointed at himself for not noticing Rika's attachment to him earlier. He enjoyed her sweet nature and company, and thought that they were friends without the complexity of romantic feelings. He was upset for missing any signs of Rika's attachment when they'd been together throughout the last year.

They had been pretty close. Rika was the class representative and he had been kind of the unofficial deputy.

Being naturally helpful and considerate, Nowaki had helped with most of classroom duties and responsibilities: setting up cleaning schedules, arranging and managing classroom activities for school festivals and sport events, dealing with too energetic teenagers bubbling with excessive hormones, and some other menial tasks.

One of the key reasons he had done all this was because Rika sat in front of him. Her straight shoulders, sometimes slumping out of frustration or tiredness, had been his privileged view.

Rika was also smart, and considerably attractive but not vain or silly about it like some girls. Nowaki had been immensely pleased spending time with her.

But that was it.

Seeing the troubled expression on Kusama-kun's face, Rika struggled to regain her composure. She let out an exhale of relief at the return of the Kusama-kun she knew.

Rika had been surprised at the dark intensity surrounding him a moment before and realized that her deputy's big frame had been hiding so much. Much more than what she was capable of handling. In fact at his troubled expression, she had been terrified.

At this sudden fear of Kusama-kun, the gentlest boy she'd known, Rika immediately felt her cheeks flush with shame.

"Eh, you're not going to high school? Why?" Rika decided to quickly change the subject to a lighter tone. She would deal with her broken heart later.

"Ah, well... "Nowaki hesitated at first, but decided to offer a truth of his own. "I want to take over the orphanage my father runs, so I figured I should start saving right away."

Nowaki's quiet tone was laced with shy hope. Despite the seemingly big meaning behind his words, the modesty, honesty, and a hint of uncertainty could be easily heard by Rika's trained ear. She smiled.

_This is why I like you, Kusama-kun._

"I see. That's very nice. I wish you the best of luck, Kusama-kun. Thank you for hearing me out. I should be heading back. I'll see you at the graduation ceremony then."

Rika stepped back with each sentence and quickly turned. Then she stopped and turned back to the still standing Nowaki.

"Kusama-kun, will you promise me one thing?

"Until you find someone you want to give the second button to, will you wear buttonless outfits only?

"Promise, okay?" Rika smiled widely while showing one pinky finger. She chuckled at Nowaki's confused expression and waved with her other hand. "Bye bye, Kusama-kun. Take care."

Then she was gone.

Nowaki was perplexed. He only had t-shirts and pullover sweaters in his limited wardrobe after all. He looked at his uniform and mumbled, "That's why I said this is the only formal attire I have."

After Rika's surprising confession, Nowaki found himself silently pondering over what other things he might have missed. He'd shaken hands, and hugged some of his classmates in the farewell celebration. As he had, he'd carefully watched every face.

Some girls that had confessed to him before looked teary but enthusiastic. They had other boyfriends now. Some other girl friends looked decently sad but excited: they had senior high school years to look forward to now. Other than that, every thing seemed normal.

Nowaki had never felt so anxious around people as he had then.

* * *

><p>The whisper of a light breeze brought back the principal's wise words to Nowaki's mind.<p>

"_Dear students, you are now walking the path to adulthood. _

"_We have given you the necessary knowledge and skills that you can use to become responsible people. _

"_For those of you who continue with your study to high school, sharpen your academic abilities. Gain as much knowledge and skills as our educational system offers. Aim for improvements. Don't get satisfied easily with what you have achieved. _

"_Achieve more and keep achieving._

"_For those who will plunge into the working world, hold your head high. Get as much experience as possible. Work hard. Then we will be proud to hear how you became rich and famous within the blink of an eye._

"_Either way, whatever path you choose, you have the future in your hands. _

"_You, yourself decide what future you are making. And in your hands, we entrust the future of our beloved nation."_

* * *

><p><em>The future?...<em>

To Nowaki, the future had started the moment he took Yamada-san's offer to deliver morning paper a few months ago and bag groceries not long after. This had led to his internship that started at the flower shop next Monday. He'd also been chosen to run the transitional house he'd soon be staying at in between these other jobs.

_No!_

A voice Nowaki had long sealed and thought dead suddenly roared to life inside his head.

_The future is when you wear a white lab coat and cure sick children. The future is when you can afford your own establishment. The future is when you see the face you want to see the most._

Nowaki exhaled slowly.

He didn't regret his decision not to go to high school. He also didn't feel like a martyr. In fact, he had calculated everything carefully.

With the money he would save from his current part-time jobs, perhaps adding another one or two along the way, he would have enough to enter a university within four or five years.

He would have to take a different major of course. Medicine would be too expensive. But that would be okay. He would have better chances with social work. Yes, he had all figured out. Even so, he hadn't uttered a single word about his plans to anyone.

Nowaki impassively recalled his private talk with his homeroom teacher at the career counseling.

* * *

><p>"Are you really sure about refusing the full scholarship, Kusama-kun? This is T High, an elite high school. You will learn a lot of interesting things." The teacher's eyes looked regretful. She'd had high hopes for her talented student.<p>

_Such a pity_.

"Yes, Fujisaki-sensei. Thank you very much for recommending me. I am very sorry, but I have to refuse. Please don't worry about me. I will be alright." Nowaki dipped his head in deep gratitude.

Fujisaki-sensei sighed; _really such a pity_.

But Nowaki's firm stance told a different story.

* * *

><p>No, he had no regrets. The Kusama House had raised him. It was time for him to repay their kindness, especially after the terrible fire. Yes, it was time.<p>

_Four to five years. I'll be bigger. Older. Stronger_.

Nowaki stared at the sky above him. His gaze was eventually drawn to the massive, orange, setting sun, moving gracefully towards the horizon. Nowaki smiled wryly.

_Even the most powerful has to follow a certain path. _

The beauty of the sky's descending ruler was captivating.

True, human ignorance and selfishness had done so much damage that the city obscured a clear view, but that never stopped Nowaki from deeply appreciating this heated glory: far away though it was, the sun still emitted radiance crucial to all living things.

Slowly, Nowaki extended one long arm towards the source of light. He reached the sun and moved his palm, as if holding it within his grasp. He could feel abundance of energy flowing through his skin, comforting him… healing him. The feeling was incredible. Nowaki closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun was no longer in his hand, slightly lower to his wrist.

Nowaki smiled. He lowered his arm back to his side.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll be fine. Just now. For a bit. Let me sleep_.

No longer conscious of the stream's restless burbling beside him, dark eyes slowly closed. Nowaki's breathing slowly evened out; the beat of his hopeful heart joining the distant drum-roll of the setting sun.

* * *

><p><strong>Panda's AN:<strong>

**I was surprised to find that there is even a section in Wikipedia about the significance and ritual of "the second button"... en . wikipedia wiki/ Japanese_school_uniform (take out the spaces)**

**In most of the shoujo manga I've read, teen years are filled with the second button fixation and school festivals/events. That's why I used these themes in my teen egoist. **

**The second button, being closest to the heart, is said to carry the ups and downs of a student in the three years of school. It's become a representation of the heart of the person himself. However, this seems to go mostly for boys. Maybe because boys aren't allowed to fully express themselves in contrast with girls. They have the family name to consider after all. Then most boys don't really care about something as silly as a second button.**

**Anyway, because of the above, a girl having a crush on, or idolizing a boy might ask him to give her the second button. If the boy agrees, it somehow means he's giving his heart her. So instead of openly saying "I like you," which is rather taboo/embarrassing, the boy accepts the girl's feeling through this act of giving his second button.**

**Now, a school uniform usually consists of a white shirt with a gakuran or a blazer jacket. Both the second button in each garment can serve as "the" second button. There are blazers with buttons up to the neck and some only have two/three up to the stomach. In the latter case, usually the second button of the white shirt that counts. **

**In some stories, where a boy has so many love interests, the girls fight over the second button of the gakuran/blazer and one will manage to "steal" it. (Sometimes she will really run after and grab the second button forcefully and all that crazy fan girl behavior. Of course, this is most often done just for dramatic/comedic effect.) Then, when the girl he's actually interested in is sad/disappointed because she failed to get it, the boy will give her the button from his shirt.**

**In other stories, the boy secretly replaces the second button with a new one so if/when it's taken/stolen, he still has the old and real second button to give his love interest.**

**Some other stories, where a boy offhandedly/casually gives the second button to a girl, if the girl likes him, she'll treasure it, though she'll still hesitate about whether or not the boy likes her too. If at a certain point, the boy learns about the significance of the button, he might ask the girl to return it if he's not into her, or lets her have it if he likes her too.**

**So yeah, the second button is a serious business: at least to shoujo manga fangirls. Bear in mind that I don't really know if real junior/high schoolers do this, okay?**

**In Nowaki's case, the fact that he plans to maintain his uniform as a whole, symbolizes that he wants to keep himself to himself and keep himself together, when some things in his life are going out of order. **

**If you remember in Couched Agreements, Hiroki muses about Nowaki's tendency to keep things nice and neat in a messy surrounding. **

**I've heard that such behavior is sometimes an unconscious attempt to get control over a disorderly situation, usually found in children/teenagers (or maybe adults too) coming from a broken or dysfunctional family. This is a good sign, since that means the person hasn't given up on living. **

**I love how Hiroki silently watches Nowaki do the dishes or tidy the apartment. Hiroki is letting Nowaki claim control over the surrounding because he probably realizes that Nowaki might lose his fragile pride without it.**

**I agree that Nowaki was/is mentally unbalanced in a way and the fact that he's fighting to remain under the light is a vital trait that distinguishes him from Akihiko. **

**About Rika, she is a tribute to Rika from a classic and tragic dorama Tokyo Love Story. The dorama is totally heartbreaking and loathsome. Rika is smart and cheerful and likes to pull playful pranks to Kenji, the foolish guy, but gets left hanging (because of Kenji's indecisiveness), and eventually cuts the tie off herself.**

** I've wanted to use her name in something and what better role but being straightforwardly rejected by my darling Nowaki? Nowaki, you go boy!**

**Also, I use "sigh" often because sighing is often taken as a clear sign one is dispirited and almost immediately invites the response: "What's the matter with you?"**

**I read somewhere that in Japan, some people believe that sighing drives happiness away. So you really shouldn't sigh. **

**Thank you for reading!**

**Panda**


	17. 8: The Way of the Sword: Act I

**Cerberus' AN:**

**Special thanks to the lovely Tentai.t and Scarlotte O'Hara for all your amazing comments recently and for getting this series to 100+ reviews! I know that they made dear Panda giddy. **

**Anyway, here's a switch from teen Nowaki to teen Hiroki: another delicious bit of Minimum for you readers to ruminate upon. ****Panda has dedicated this story to D. L. and his fathers F., I. & N.**

**Personally, I love the feel of this piece. It has a wonderful and quiet kind of angst that Panda is master of and a tiny sprinkle of the humor our dear Hiroki embodies in the series as opinion might differ, but reading young Hiroki struggling with what he is and who he loves in this piece... Well, Panda plays my heart like a harp. **

**And if you like this Minimum entry as much as I do, you'll be pleased to know it's not over yet...  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Egoist Panda-monium<strong>

**The Way of the S/word: Act I**

* * *

><p>Encountering the foreboding fence, as he peered through the cracks into the world he'd left behind, Hiroki inwardly grimaced.<p>

He arrived at the wooden gate, still standing as strong and stout as he remembered. Visible between its slats, the thick, well-cared for bushes behind it offered outsiders no clues to what lay beyond.

_Nothing has changed._

He sighed.

_What am I doing here?_

Finding no answer, Hiroki braced himself as he depressed the latch and watched the gate swing silently open on its well-oiled hinges. After another moment's hesitation, he stepped in.

Once inside, he could still see up the path, the low stone stairs, leading to the vast practice room of his once-upon-a-time dojo.

The feelings that had filled him standing outside the fence persisted; they never left him these days.

_How is it this place has not changed a bit, when just one hundred meters away, technology has altered everything else?_

Hiroki swept his gaze around. His ears strained to hear sounds of exertion: the harsh grunts and battle cries of practice, the clash of the bamboo shinai. But the place was quiet.

He had known it would be.

Though no longer a member, he still heard news about the dojo, especially since his mother was on good terms with the owner and his daughter.

A few days before, during dinner, she had let it slip that some members of the dojo had entered a regional kendo competition and won. His mother had told him too that Sakai-sensei was giving a one week holiday to the dojo's members to regroup and refresh themselves before resuming their exhausting practices.

Hiroki had felt a rush of fraternal pride at this news, but what interested him the most was that today, outside the most diehard disciple, the dojo would likely be empty.

It had been his hope that the grounds would be unoccupied. But somehow, finding it so now didn't make him happy. He told himself, as he'd had on his travels here today, that he had no idea why he'd come to this place again.

He thought of the shelter of green leaves and blue sky that had been his sanctuary for so long.

_Not any more… _

Of late it had become a torture chamber.

This thought pushed his resistant feet up the stone stairs and across the covered porch of the dojo. Hiroki stood at the dojo's closed door only a minute before resting a smooth hand on its surface and giving it a gentle push.

Like the gate, it wasn't locked and the screened panel slid silently aside.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Hiroki had stepped out of his shoes and into the open space of the practice floor. The sparring mats stood stacked neatly to the side, the polished wood was cool beneath his stockinged feet.

_Perhaps I am here now because now I no longer have a safe place, since "He" is always there these days, it seems._

As was the case more and more, when the thought of "Him" crossed his mind, Hiroki's expression darkened. He stood still, struggling to keep his gaze fixed outward. His eyes focused on the afternoon light filtering in through the glazed windows as he fought to control his quickened heartbeat.

"Oi, What are you doing there?"

The authoritative voice broke into his inner tumult. Hiroki started and looked up. Standing in the open door, wearing a familiar light and dark-blue kimono, was the owner of the dojo, his former kendo master.

_Even Sakai-sensei still looks the same._

Hiroki then realized that the man was waiting for a response. He fumbled for an appropriate reply.

_Damn him_.

Even though it had been three years since he'd last seen him, Sakai-sensei still made Hiroki feel like a child caught stealing apples. He bowed contritely.

"Sensei… I.. uh..." For someone who could write ten-page essays in a blink of an eye, Hiroki was lost for words.

"The swords are over there." Sensei pointed to the weapons rack on the far wall when he had straightened. "Or have you forgotten _the way_?"

The blatant sarcasm in the words snapped Hiroki out of his momentary paralysis.

"I didn't come here to practice the sword!" Wincing at the childish quality to his outburst, Hiroki's unease boiled up even further when Sensei raised one eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

Without saying anything further, Sakai turned and walked away.

Hiroki was left standing there speechless.

_What the...? Damn him. Damn me. _

_What the hell am I doing here? Why did I come here anyway? This is stupid. I am stupid._

Hiroki's lean body shook with self-loathing. It was a tremor he was getting quite familiar with lately. He wanted to run again, to flee this place too, but he realized that there was nowhere he could truly take refuge.

_Even if "He" isn't here, I am, and I am no longer safe with myself._

"Here."

A _thump _accompanied the brusque voice at Sensei's sudden return. Hiroki looked up and frowned. As he stood again in the doorway, next to Sakai-sensei's right foot was a pail of water and a white cloth.

"Your timing couldn't be more impeccable: the floor hasn't been cleaned for a week. Lazy kids have gone missing.

"Just because they can aim a hit or two, they think they're too smart to wipe the floor. You are certainly not as stupid, eh?"

With that, Sensei again turned around and disappeared.

Hiroki's mouth hung open.

Staring at the bucket and cloth, he knew exactly what was expected of him.

_That old bastard._

He could have forsaken the waiting supplies and made his escape while he could, relieved to have something concrete to flee from at last. But for some reason, he was rooted to the ground: Sakai-sensei's words had pricked his Kamijou pride.

_Of course I am not as stupid!_

Hiroki gritted his teeth. But then how many times had he fallen for such similar goading from his former master when he was Sensei's top student?

_Too many to keep tabs_.

Despite this, his previously frozen feet carried him to where Sakai-sensei had last stood. He grabbed the pail and cloth, one in each of his hands.

_Damn him. Damn me. Damn it all!_

* * *

><p>Hiroki wiped the sweat from his forehead with a tanned forearm.<p>

He swept dark eyes around the room, pleased to see it shiny and clean. He hated to admit it, but once he'd started, he had found himself enjoying the physical labor.

He had washed the floor not twice, but three times.

_Man, those members really work their sweat out. _

Not one to leave any job half done, he had then gone on to wipe down the swords with another cloth he'd found nearby.

While it had been a long time since he'd held one of the wooden swords, he could still remember the sensations: the vibration of colliding forces jarring his palms; concentrating all his being; focusing his strikes. He had been sorely tempted by the feel of the bamboo in his hands to take a sword and run through a few practice kata since no one was watching, but decided against it.

Now that he'd finished cleaning and there was no sign of Sensei, Hiroki was a little loss at what to do next. He paced the perimeter of the room once more, almost hoping to find some patch he'd overlooked in his cleaning.

As he stepped over to the members' wall, his keen gaze skimmed through the wooden nameplates. He was surprised to see his own still hung there.

_Typical of Sensei. Never one to throw anything away… Even useless things. _

Staring at his nameplate, written by his ten year-old self, Sakai-sensei's voice filled his head.

_Not every member can have their name on the wall: only those who truly understand 'the way of the sword' and use it for greater good. _

_Once you have your name on our wall, you will be bound to live your life with honor. And forever you will have this dojo as "home."_

Hiroki frowned recalling this speech. It was one Sakai-sensei recited every time a novice member had proven himself and his name was added to the wall of distinction. The words had been the same when he and a few of his other childhood teammates had hung their nameplates.

_Maybe this is why I came back here._

It had been a difficult decision to leave kendo. But after six years of the sword his twelve-year old self had found a greater calling in literature. The written texts took him places that far outshone the competitive kendo arena.

Words were as freeing as swords were binding.

Hiroki remembered how internally he'd trembled when he'd come to tell Sakai-sensei of his decision to quit. But Sensei had been calm and nonchalant; in fact, he acted almost as if he had expected it. Hiroki had felt tremendously guilty, but he had braved on.

_And now here I am, like a lost dog that had sniffed its way back to an old master._

Hiroki sighed.

It had never occurred to him before to regret his decision, but now, at fifteen, he wished he could have warned his younger self of the real battles outside the ring he would eventually face.

_If I was still practicing kendo now, I would at least have something as mundane and tiresome as wiping the floor to distract me._

Remembering too the pleasant ache of tired muscles after a rigorous practice, Hiroki frowned at how this memory contrasted with the new discomfort that plagued his flesh: the overpowering call now to a different kind of physical exertion.

Not wanting to dwell too much on these particular pains, Hiroki moved towards the other door of the dojo, the one that opened up to the inner garden.

* * *

><p>Stepping through, into the meticulously manicured space, his eyes were caught by an unusual sight.<p>

Given how he was feeling internally, Hiroki covered his mouth to muffle the bitter laugh that had sprung to his throat.

_I can't believe this. Even Mother Nature is reflecting back my ugly state._

There at the center of the garden stood, what was supposed to be, a small tree.

It was pathetically burnt from root to the tips of its branches. Whatever the plant was, it was almost indescribable, the main trunk and its offshoots grotesquely charred. The fire was recent, as traces of ash still surrounded it; most likely its previously green and healthy leaves.

The presence of the tree was totally out of place in the beautiful garden.

"Some kids had an argument the other day."

Hiroki turned and found Sakai-sensei behind him carrying a tray. The man moved to a low wooden platform nearby and settled the tray. He knelt down beside it, and went on.

"They were arguing over environmental disasters: deforestation or forest fire. They used the tree to see which was more devastating, to cut down the tree or to burn it."

Hiroki winced at the stupidity and violence of such an act. He then followed and knelt, facing his old teacher.

"Since they didn't have a saw, they burnt it first. Then they realized that either way, the tree is dead."

Hiroki remained silent as the sounds of insects and the city well beyond the dojo walls filled Sakai-sensei's pause.

"Such a great price to get so little knowledge." Sensei's voice was calm as he said this, but Hiroki could hear a hint of sadness.

_Idiots._

Not knowing what to say, Hiroki remained silent. Then he looked at the tray and saw that it contained a ceramic cup and a water jar. Suddenly he realized how thirsty his furious cleaning had left him.

He was about to reach out for the cup, when his eyes caught Sensei's distinct hand movements. He was shocked when Sakai bowed.

"I would like to serve you a cup of water."

Watching the ritualized way Sekai-sensei went about filling the cup, Hiroki stilled.

_He's treating this like a tea ceremony._

Hiroki was forced to swallow hard. He felt even more parched and only wanted to gulp down the tantalizingly liquid and then get seconds from the jar.

But he couldn't do that before Sakai-sensei offered him the cup. Not unless he wanted to offend his old master's hospitality and humiliate himself more than he already had, showing up here today with no notice, after such a long absence.

Sensei took his time, thoughtfully minding his every movement. Hiroki watched as Sakai picked up the cup with his right hand and placed it on the palm of his left hand. His old master then turned the vessel two times about one-quarter anticlockwise, so that the front side of the cup now faced his unexpected guest.

Watching, Hiroki silently seethed with impatience. He breathed in and out slowly to simmer down his anxiety. He had learned long ago that fighting Sensei was a futile battle.

Deep down inside, Hiroki intuited why Sensei was doing this and his heart swelled with relief and gratitude. He closed his eyes against the cup, seeking to erase its image, the object of his current desire, and focus on controlling his primal urge to seize it.

_I cannot dishonor my teacher... I must reign in my desire and behave in an honorable manner._

When he opened his eyes, he found his sensei looking straight at him, offering the glass.

Hiroki felt his cheeks grow hot.

_How long were my eyes closed?_

"Please, drink…"

Hiroki looked back at Sensei and, at his nod, reached out to the cup with both hands. He cursed inwardly at their shake, but continued with the ritual.

He set the cup on the slats before him and removed his hands, slipping them to the front of his kneeling knees, his fingertips pulled him slightly forward as they touched the platform just in front of cup.

"Thank you for the water, Sensei."

The old man silently nodded.

Hiroki picked up the cup slowly; his mind quieter than it had been for months. He was instantly aware of everything, it seemed: the cool ceramic under his fingers, the cup's uneven texture. He could feel the light breeze beneath the sun on his sweat-cooled skin and caught the scent of garden and city and coming rain.

He turned the cup the appropriate number of times in his hand.

"Forgive me for drinking before you, Sensei." He waited for his instructor to assure him that it was okay, to entreat him to drink.

Then he brought the glass to his lips.

It was heaven.

The cold water instantly soothed his flaming throat; its crispness slid down his neck sending a reviving sensation to his stiffening muscles. Pausing, Hiroki raised the ceramic cup to his master.

"Thank you Sakai-sensei, this water tastes very good."

After expressing his gratitude, Hiroki was surprised to find himself taking slow sips instead of gulping it down in a chug. He waited at intervals for Sakai-sensei to urge him on.

His mind continued to become clearer with each sip he took.

Finally he lowered his empty glass.

"May I serve you another?"

Dark eyes darted to the water jar and Hiroki was pleased to find that after how desperate he'd felt before, he didn't need a second cup.

"No, Thank you, Sensei. I have had enough."

Lifting his gaze from the cup, Hiroki raised his head and for the first time took a very good look at Sakai-sensei.

He noticed new wrinkles on his old master's stoic face, the scattering of greater gray, like fallen ash, amongst the man's thick black hair. But the way Sakai-sensei looked at him with his sharp, clear eyes, and the way he sat with impossibly straight shoulders remained the same.

As a child, from the moment he had first stepped into the dojo to train, Hiroki had thought that his Sensei was the incarnation of Japan's historic proud samurai: centered, noble, and solid. Little Hiroki had never considered that samurai got old.

An unexpected burst of shame filled him. Hiroki lowered his eyes. _It's a good thing to be old. That means that one was young once. _

His shame receded and a wave of grief washed over him.

_At the rate I am going, I might spend my lifetime's heartbeats before next spring and never get the chance to fully be either._

One of Hiroki's long fingers traced the pattern of the glaze on the empty cup in his hand. He followed the line, noting the slight imperfection in the form that gave it its beauty. He wished human vessels were accorded this same aesthetic scale.

"This is an elegant piece," Hiroki offered softly as he almost reluctantly handed it back to Sakai-sensei.

Seeing that his favored student had at last brought his galloping mind to a comfortable pace, Sakai gave a soft grunt of approval. He took the cup, and as was his way, with both sword and word, cut to heart of the matter unflinchingly.

"So, what brought you here?"

Despite his older look, Sakai-sensei's deep and authoritative voice had not at all shifted. Hiroki could hardly recall in his training a time when Sensei's voice had be forced to raise to demand attention. His presence alone was enough. His inner turmoil returned at the direct question.

_What brought me here? I myself don't know..._

Or more so he did, but could not bear to say it.

Hiroki dropped his eyes again and was startled when the tray in front of him was replaced by a piece of paper.

"If you can't speak it, write."

Hiroki stared at the blank rice paper. As if pulled from the air, he saw a calligraphy brush and a jar of ink next to it.

_Great_.

Hiroki scowled and cast an angry glare at his old master.

_You really are trying to humiliate me._

Sakai met Hiroki's gaze with complete ease.

"What's the matter? That is your weapon of choice after all. Isn't that what you told me when last we met?

"Don't tell me you have forgotten how to use this too?"

More than the sarcasm, Hiroki was stung by the truth behind the words, and how easily Sensei could read him. It was very embarrassing.

Just as the swords, the penned characters wouldn't lie: when the heart of the person wielding it wavered, the sword/pen/ brush trembled. In a battle, even the slightest hesitation could cost one's life.

_Or his pride…_

In his current inner warfare, Hiroki stood to possibly lose both if he didn't take hold of himself somehow.

When he'd let go of his sword, to follow the way of the word, Hiroki had thought that he would always hold his pen steady. He had known that literature was his true passion and decided to dedicate his life to the path of wisdom. He'd been walking face forward, true to himself.

It had never occurred to him that not long after, he would find himself cowering at the sight of a blank paper and a pen brush.

_What is happening to me? What have I been reduced into?_

Hiroki could not bring himself to pick up the brush.

_I have abandoned both the sword and the word._

Hiroki hung his head low and clenched his fists. His body again began to tremble with conflicting emotions.

_I know what is happening to me. I know what I have become. What I am… I'm just so very afraid to let other people know. To let **"**Him**"** know._

The memory of sleepless nights and restless days ever since he'd realized his strange and growing feelings for his best friend came to him. It was both horrifying and relieving think about declaring his nature, proclaiming his feelings through the indelible marks of the brush.

But as the Kanji characters danced before his mind's eyes, Hiroki could more clearly see and appreciate his own character. Reading himself this way, Hiroki was shamed to feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Youth becomes old age easily; it is the walking through life that is difficult.

"While the tree daydreams by the riverbank in spring, already its leaves foretell the coming of autumn." Sakai-sensei's voice was soft as he said this, his eyes fixed on the burnt tree behind his former student.

Hiroki blinked.

He slowly registered the ancient Chinese saying and frowned slightly at the seemingly deliberate twist. But in his current state of mind, he was inevitably drawn to the mention of "autumn." Then his memory flashed back to all those practices, a pale-eyed figure lingering in the background, silently waiting for him to finish. He, dashing off, not lingering with his teammates after practices or competitions so that he could go join his friend.

_Sensei knows._

Though he did not utter his thoughts, Hiroki's mind automatically, poetically, played off the proverb:

_I am not lingering in spring daydreams; I am trapped in a nightmare. The chill child of autumn threatens to strip me already. His mild touch ravages me more than any summer scorch or winter freeze._

Hiroki grimaced at his lame and dramatic response to his sensei's words. He thought again of autumn's child.

_He is really is much more the fragile fruit of spring, his fecund mind so fertile, sprouting the stories that have ensnared me. _

Hiroki knew however too, that it was far more than the stories that now captivated him.

_He doesn't know much I love him._

Hiroki sighed.

_Well, I suppose it's no surprise. I work so hard to blind and deafen him with deceits. _

Again, Hiroki was forced to suppress a bitter laugh.

Out of habit, his restless mind nudged him further on. He blinked at the realization of what Sensei was saying: there was truth here.

_If I allow myself to be lost in my fantasies of what I wish would happen, the way that I feel now, I will not be able to survive even one more season._

Suddenly it all became clear to him. Hiroki's eyes widened. He looked at Sensei, who was still quietly watching the tree.

He was still ashamed.

_Very much so._

But he was grateful to this stoic man in front of him.

Hiroki knew why he had come here.

He had needed advice, support. And true to his word, Sensei had allowed him to return to find it, offering his instruction unconditionally, still considering him a member of the warrior's way.

_Sword or word. _

Hiroki felt a huge burden lift from his shoulders. He cleared his throat, "Uh... Sensei..." He lowered his eyes again when Sensei looked back at him.

"I... uh... I came to tell you I am going to transfer schools when I finish this term." It was a decision made in this moment, but Hiroki knew he would follow it through.

_I need to focus; I cannot be distracted from the way I have chosen to follow. I need to seek more words than "his," I cannot commit myself to such a "seasonal" path any more than I already have._

"I'll go to a different high school. I.. uh... I'll study hard." Hiroki didn't know why he blurted such silly things, but he knew that his Sensei would understand. He fought back the tears that newly threatened his eyes and looked up to meet his Sensei's gaze.

Sakai-sensei gazed back at him still with maddening calmness, but this time Hiroki held his gaze levelly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." Hiroki could feel new determination filled him.

"Hmm..." Sakai's eyes went back to the tree. "So you have decided.

"Life is full of never-ending choices. For example, I wonder now what to do with that..."

An auburn head turned to follow Sensei's gaze to the mutilated tree, secretly relieved that his master was changing the subject.

Finding new courage, Hiroki attempted humor. "Hmm... I don't know about you, but to me it looks like a burnt bonsai."

"Is that so, Kamijou-kun?... Hmm..." Sensei's guttural tones sounded like the satisfied purr of an old lion to Hiroki's ear.

Hiroki said nothing more, he just nodded. As he sat next to his old master, the swirling of seasons and swords and strokes of the brush stilled in the peace of the garden.

_Thank you, Sakai-sensei._

He knew now the way he should go, it would not be easy, but he would live.

* * *

><p><strong>Panda's AN:<strong>

**This is the correct Chinese saying and its meaning, as quoted from "Tea Ceremony" by Shozo Sato:**

"**_Youth becomes old easily; accomplishing study is difficult. While you are daydreaming by the riverbank in spring, already the leaves foretell the coming of autumn_."**

**Meaning: Any study is difficult and seems to have no end. Yet the journey brings rewards, because there is always more to discover and re-discover.**


	18. 18: The Way of the Sword: Act II

**So, this is the sequel to Panda's "Way of the S/Word. It takes place long after 14 year-old Hiroki's last visit to his childhood kendo dojo. I think this is one of my favorite pieces that Panda has done. I wish it was canon. ****To me, also, this piece goes well beyond FF. It is a lovely tale, all on it's own and worthy of note.**

* * *

><p><strong>Egoist Pandamonium<strong>

**The Way of the S/Word: Act II**

* * *

><p>Hiroki had traveled outside of Tokyo for a three-day seminar. He was in his hotel room, packing for his return trip home when his mother rang with her weekly call.<p>

Once again, Hiroki silently marveled at his mother's impeccable timing: he'd been deep in the midst of some very pleasing conjectures about his impending reunion with Nowaki when her call had broken into his thoughts.

Hiroki answered his phone with a sigh and continued his preparations for leaving as he listened to his mother's genteel ramblings, answering her personal inquiries with his usual monosyllabic responses. He stopped in his packing, however, his half-listening ear suddenly acute, when the Lady Kamijou mentioned the passing of his old kendo sensei two weeks prior.

At first, he couldn't believe it. He'd secretly entertained the thought that someone as stubborn as Sakai-sensei would likely live forever. Then the ridiculousness of such a childish notion sunk in. What followed this was no more welcome.

_How many times since that last day I stepped into the dojo, did I tell myself I was going to go back and see Sensei again?_

But despite how many times his childhood teacher had been in his thoughts, or how often he'd had the best intentions of calling on Sakai-sensei again, he never had. Hiroki displaced the shock of the news and his dismay at his shortcomings by irritatedly scolding his mother for calling with such important information so belatedly.

Used to such chidings by her excitable son, the Lady Kamijou didn't lose her composure and calmly replied, "Hiroki, you were getting ready to attend a seminar, at which you were the lead speaker. I had imagined things for you the last few weeks would have been terribly hectic with preparation."

She then asked with the same aplomb, if her busy boy might not spare a minute to visit the dojo to express condolences to his sensei's family, adding, "Besides, now that all relevant issues are settled, you'll have more time to talk with Kaoru-san."

Hiroki sensed a particular emphasis in his mother's voice. He understood too that, _thankfully_, this was not another of her matchmaking attempts: Sakai Kaoru, or rather now Fujimura Kaoru, Sensei's daughter, was happily married and her age was closer to his mother's than to his own.

"Of course I'll go visit, Mother." Hiroki let out a deep exhale.

"Ah, that's good. Safe journey back. And, Hiroki, thank you." His mother's voice, which had been distinctly sad just moments before, was now laden with relief and affection.

Hiroki blushed and grumbled an awkward acknowledgment, pretending not to hear his mother's pleased smile on the other line.

* * *

><p>"Kamijou-san, thank you for coming." Fujimura Kaoru bowed her head to the man sitting before her.<p>

"Ah, no... I am sincerely sorry. I've come very late. But I didn't know until a few days ago when Mother told me." Hiroki bowed back, expressing his genuine regret.

"Ah, that's fine." Kaoru's voice was sincere. "Your mother said that you were leading a national literature seminar. You have become so accomplished, Kamijou-san. My father would have been proud." Kaoru smiled.

"No, that's... Um, my mother exaggerates things." Hiroki cleared his throat. "Please don't take everything she says seriously."

Kaoru smiled even wider at Hiroki's blush.

_Some things don't change._

Before Kaoru could say anything more embarrassing about his life beyond his childhood dojo, Hiroki decided that their exchange of pleasantries was adequately concluded and now it was time for more significant conversation.

"Um... on another subject, Kaoru-san, may I ask how you're doing?"

Kaoru's dark eyes blinked, her smile dimmed a little. "We are doing fine, Kamijou-san. Father had prepared for everything. He was so stoic. No one knew he'd not been feeling well for quite a while.

"He'd managed to hide it until he, uh… fell, you see. Even after such a bad fall he didn't let people know he was suffering. Having been so agile for all of his life he must have felt embarrassed to reveal such a thing.

"It was actually your mother, the dear lady, who first noticed Father's worsening condition on a visit shortly after his fall.

"Kamijou-san urged Father to go the hospital, but he insisted that he was fine. Lady Kamijou took it upon herself, then, to care for him until I could come home. But there was internal damage, bleeding. Only so much that could be done outside of a surgeon's care."

Kaoru sighed, then quickly regained her composure.

"At the end it was peaceful. He told me he was looking forward to his joints not hurting him anymore after all the tumbles he'd taken trying to instruct such rambunctious pupils."

Dark eyes peered at Hiroki intently. "Though not all were rambunctious…

"Every now and again there would be a student who made Father's eyes shine whenever he spoke of them."

Hiroki looked away from Kaoru and out through the living room window, pretending to notice, for the first time, a cat perched on the garden fence, although the feline had been sitting there sunning for ages.

Kaoru smiled again at the scholar's renewed blush, pleased that Kamijou-san had understood her meaning.

"We also owe a lot to Kamijou-dono for helping us with most of the legal and tax matters. Really, Kamijou-san, our family is highly indebted to you." Kaoru bowed her head again with more gratitude and humility.

"Ah, please... don't say that, Kaoru-san. "Especially after what Sensei and your family have done for so many."

It had been quite a while since Hiroki had found himself in a situation where he was being thanked for his parents' doings. In his life away from the neighborhood, he had become used to people treating him as Kamijou Hiroki the individual, instead of Kamijou Hiroki the only son of the Kamijou House. He'd forgotten how embarrassingly disconcerting it was.

A breeze through the open window stirred the up the faint scent of sweet incense.

Moved by the fragrance and still not ready to meet his hostess' gaze again, Hiroki's keen eyes swept the living room. He noted that Sensei's ashes and his photo appeared to have been removed from the open family altar.

Quite sharp herself, Kaoru noticed his expression and quickly deciphered what Hiroki's searching eyes sought.

"Father's ashes have been moved to his old room, together with Mother's."

Before Hiroki could say anything in response, she quickly added, "Uh, Kamijou-san, I noticed you looking out the window earlier. Would it please you to see our garden?"

Kaoru rose and moved over to push the sliding door open, revealing more fully the inner garden in the center of house. Hiroki frowned slightly as he peered out into the Sakai Garden.

Sensing the professor's apprehension and his fear of intruding, Kaoru offered, "I would very much like for you to see it, please, Kamijou-san."

Hiroki got up from where he had been seated at these words, unable to refuse the Lady's request. As he drew closer to the open door, he saw that the garden, like the rest of the house, hadn't changed much since his last visit.

The bamboo-dipping fountain was still there. It had been making the soothing musical clinking in its rising and falling that he'd been secretly listening to. The patches of green grass set artfully amidst the graveled paths were just as meticulous as he remembered.

A warm breeze brushed in through the open door, carrying the light perfume of blossoms: the spring had brought its cheerful colors to several small trees within the Garden. And...

Hiroki's eyes widened.

There, at the center, stood something definitely different than his last memory of this wonderfully green space.

_The burnt tree._

A small tree still stood there, but if it was the same one, no one would know now how ravaged it had once been, how charred its branches, how black its trunk.

Hiroki's wondering eyes marveled at the glory of blooming sakura that decorated the tree's artfully twisted branches.

Overwhelmed by the possibility that this could be the same tortured tree he'd last seen in that spot, Hiroki lowered his gaze. He realized that it was no ghost, no conjured apparition: the tree's thickened stem was firmly connected with the ground.

_But this can't be that same burned tree…_

Hiroki was unaware that he'd spoken aloud until a soft voice broke into his thoughts.

"Yes, Kamijou-san, it is the very same."

_How could that be? _Hiroki was stunned. _That tree was devastated; no living thing could recover from such damage. _His dark eyes sought answers in the shifting gaze of his hostess.

Seeing Kamijou-san's reaction, hearing his quiet question, little pieces of an old puzzle suddenly fell into place for Kaoru.

_Was Kamijou-san the one?_ A wave of jealousy washed over her at this possibility.

_Sometimes_ _I wish I had been a boy: to be able to share such an intimate bond with my father._

Rather than allowing this new sense of loss to show, Kaoru shook her head and drew a deep breath. She knew what she had to do.

Despite how difficult this would be for her, she felt a sudden relief too, knowing that Kamijou-san had come. His being here now banished any previous sense of awkwardness she'd had and she knew she could reminisce with him about her father, without feeling tiresome.

"Father took care of that burnt tree, Kamijou-san.

"I'm ashamed to admit that when he started and then kept on after it for so long, I thought him foolish. It seemed a waste to me to keep caring for something I considered dead.

"Then, when Father said it was not a dead tree, but instead a 'burnt bonsai,' I really didn't know what he was thinking."

Kaoru paused a moment; her eyes grew wistful. "Kamijou-san, I don't mean to impose on you, but do you know how my mother died?"

Looking into the woman's questioning gaze, Hiroki slowly realized that his sensei's daughter wanted to tell him something.

Clearing his throat, Hiroki said quietly, "Mother once told me that the lady Sakai died after giving birth to you."

Kaoru nodded; her face was solemn. "Yes, that's true. What Lady Kamijou didn't know is that my mother gave a premature birth because she fell from those stairs." Kaoru turned, fixing her eyes to the low stone stairs connecting the dojo on the other side of the house to the garden.

Hiroki followed her gaze and winced internally at the thought.

"I had initially thought that Father's persistent attempts to revive the burnt tree were because it was the same tree that Mother planted before her death.

"You see, when she was carrying me, my mother had the idea of doing a bonsai that was not put into a pot, so that it might absorb the pure energy from Mother Earth. _'What kind of tree would it be then'_ was what father told me she had said.

"It was strange actually, since, if it's rooted to the ground, then it would be just a usual tree, not a bonsai." Kaoru inhaled deeply and then released a long slow breath.

"After her death, Father kept tending to the tree. He kept it small and lovely. You might remember that it gave beautiful flowers in the spring." Kaoru smiled at Hiroki's subtle nod. Then her smile faded.

"It must have been very hard for Father to see the tree fall victim to such juvenile curiosity… and cruelty. For a time he just let it stand, a sad reminder or maybe a warning, I thought.

"It was so ugly I wanted to uproot it myself, but Father wouldn't allow it.

"Then, one day, he suddenly returned to his original vigor of caring for that burned tree. He said one of his students had inspired him to restore it.

"He tried various fertilizers to enliven the ground, watered it carefully. Father would sometimes even neglect other parts of the garden; he was tending to the tree so intently.

"For years, the tree stayed black and withered. Really, it was painful to see." Kaoru's voice faltered. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Then suddenly, one spring, the tree grew small green leaves.

"Father couldn't have been happier. I can still remember him sitting contently on the veranda, watching his reviving tree.

"What was even more surprising was that just before the season ended, there was a very small flower on one branch. It didn't fully bloom, but it was still a miracle."

Despite his fear of seeming rude, Hiroki stepped out onto the outside deck and sat down. He ducked his head, fighting away the threat of blush. Behind him there was a rustle of fabric and then, a moment later, Kaoru was also out on the deck, sitting next to him. She resumed her tale.

"The seasons passed and Father waited with anxious anticipation for the next spring. Then it happened.

"That second spring after it revived, there was again only one sakura, but it bloomed fully. It was another miracle.

"Then the next year, and the next year. Each year after, another sakura blossomed. One became two, then three and four. If only you could have seen Father's face when each of the trees main branches held a blossom."

Kaoru's eyes glistened with these happy memories, then, once again, her expression shifted to something decidedly more melancholy.

"Sadly, after six years of blooms, the tree seemed to wither once more. Its branches remained barren. I'd thought, perhaps because the tree had been so spectacular the last spring, it was blooming for the last time before it completely died.

"Father was extremely worried, but he waited and was faithful in his tending to it.

Although Hiroki had known certain details of his Sensei's life, it was still shocking to hear the in-depth version.

He had a suspicion too, of where Kaoru's story was going and if this was so, it was both disconcerting and embarrassing.

"And then the tree surprised us again. After a year of empty branches, the next spring, it bloomed fully, more beautiful than ever before. Then the next year, and the next: more and more sakura, as you can see today."

Kaoru turned and lifted her eyes to Kamijou-san's face. He had lost his battle with himself and she saw the faint blush on his smooth cheeks.

_He is very sweet. Perhaps even adorable. _Kaoru's heart swelled, her earlier jealousy replaced by sisterly warmth.

"Kamijou-san," Kaoru called out softly. Hiroki blinked rapidly, fighting his blush again before he finally met his hostess' eyes.

"I admit that I felt foolish at first, telling you all this, but I have a sense that this story might have some significance to you..." Kaoru let her voice trail off.

"Ah... that's... uh..." Like the burnt tree, Hiroki's blush bloomed anew and far more fully. Gathering himself, despite this, he nodded solemnly, "Yes, Kaoru-san, I believe it does."

Kaoru smiled again. _So that's how it is. I was right. Kamijou-san is the one._

A comfortable silence fell between them out on the sunny deck. The bamboo fountain and the murmur of distant street traffic mixed in a quiet rhythm of old and new sounds. Then Hiroki took a deep breath and ventured softly:

"Um, Kaoru-san, this may sound odd, but might I ask for a piece of paper and a pen brush?"

Hiroki frowned slightly at Kaoru's sudden, strange expression.

"Kaoru-san?" Hiroki gently queried, concerned that he'd somehow offended his sensei's daughter.

"Ah, no... Of course, Kamijou-san. Please, wait here for just a moment." Kaoru quickly stood and hurried out before Hiroki's questioning eyes.

Hiroki stared at the open screen door a moment longer. Once Karou had disappeared through it, his eyes were drawn back to the blossoming tree.

He was overwhelmed by her story.

The last time he'd been here, he was fourteen and suffering, wrestling with his sexuality, his feelings for Akihiko at the root of the matter. He'd been desperate, knowing that what he felt was not some strange "phase."

At that time some of his fellow classmates had already had their first "experiences," all with girls. He'd struggled to understand why he'd never felt any attraction to girls and focused solely on Akihiko.

When he'd realized that, unconsciously, he kept comparing other boys' bodies to Akihiko's too, and for him it was only boys that caught his attention, Hiroki finally understood his nature.

While Hiroki was quite familiar with the subject of homosexuality from literature he had read, he was shocked to find that reading about it was not the same as experiencing it.

Once it had become clear, he'd been all but overwhelmed by the isolation of his situation: unable to talk about it openly with Akihiko, the other boy being the object of his attention; and certainly not with other boys he knew, for the sheer shame of it.

The last time he had visited the dojo, the awareness of his difference had been slowly eating Hiroki alive. He'd found himself having to be constantly on guard, always fighting his desire for Akihiko.

Lost in these thoughts, Hiroki's eyes drifted from the tree over to the sunbathing cat. He watched it drop gracefully from the fence and its striped back dip in a languid stretch.

_Oh, the things I wanted to do to "Princess" Akihiko._

He had been on the verge of breaking the day that he'd come here, his youthful urges screaming for attention, feeling he couldn't bear to be around Akihiko for a minute longer.

They had been together the last years of primary school, the whole three years of junior high, and were about to spend another three in high school.

At that point, Hiroki couldn't be two steps from Akihiko without wanting to push the other boy down and he'd become extremely worried for Akihiko's safety. He'd tried to "see" other boys to calm himself, but was afraid that what he'd been told was a "weakness of character" might corrupt others' innocent youth.

_So I ran. Here. To the dojo. I just wanted to find some space to think things over, away from my family… Away from him. _

_But instead I found Sensei._

Hiroki still recalled everything from that fateful afternoon.

Full of anger and dissatisfaction, the atmosphere of the dojo and Sensei's (semi) forced labor had done a lot to calm him down. Then there was his sensei's quiet guidance, reminding him of his other passion: Literature.

Hiroki had been ashamed that he'd been so fixated on his arduous physical demands that he'd lost his mind. He'd forgotten how to control himself.

Immediately after their makeshift tea ceremony in Sakai-sensei's garden, he'd transferred schools.

"M" High School had not been as distinguished as his previous "T" High, but its literature club had a good reputation. At least, that was the reason he had proposed to his parents.

His mother had been appalled that her Hiroki would want to "separate" from the Usami boy. His father, meanwhile, though he'd quickly read through the lie, had merely raised an eyebrow at his son's embarrassed blush. Thankfully, he hadn't said anything and proceeded with the transfer.

Hiroki had steeled himself to tell Akihiko about it soon after. To his utter disappointment, Akihiko had merely stared and finally said, "I see. Good luck then, Hiroki."

Hiroki sighed at the memory.

True to his promise to Sakai-sensei that day, thereafter he'd dedicated most of his time to studying. Wiser about his sexuality, he'd carefully navigated his way through the world, never wanting to lose the battle between his mind and his flesh again.

A grimace twisted Hiroki's mouth at this thought. He watched as the cat, previously so lazy, suddenly coiled and pounced on some invisible prey in the grass.

He'd managed to stay out of trouble through high school, but he'd broken down not long after entering college: one night of bitter revelations set his drunk self loose. But even then, he'd still held to that fragile promise of studying hard. It was the only thing that had kept him sane.

_Well, that and my pride._

Another sigh escaped Hiroki.

_Then came Nowaki._

Hiroki shifted his eyes away from the striped tabby lying in the grass, its tail tapping in annoyance as it studied empty paws.

His gaze slowly swept back to the resurrected burnt tree. He stared at the blooms and inwardly counted.

_One, two, ... eight._

If his calculation and suspicions matched, each flower represented a year he had spent with Nowaki. The missing blooms in the sixth spring—

_The year Nowaki had left me for America. _

_But how is that possible? _

Hiroki vaguely remembered saying something about "a burnt bonsai" the last time he'd seen his sensei. He hadn't known then that his feeble attempt at humor would intangibly link him to Sensei's wife's tree. That by some unforeseen magic, conjured that afternoon long ago, somehow, Sakai-sensei's burnt bonsai would come to personify him.

Despite his embarrassment, Hiroki believed that if Sakai-sensei had suspected his truth at that time, he would not have revealed something so personal or humiliating to anyone else. But now, somehow, Kaoru-san knew.

Hiroki brushed his furrowed forehead with the index finger.

_How much more embarrassment can I handle in a day?_

Turning his head at the sound of shuffling steps Hiroki saw Kaoru-san come back out onto the deck. She carried a square box wrapped in a dark blue cloth. Behind her another woman followed, the house help apparently, carrying a tray set for tea.

Hiroki frowned.

_Kaoru-san and I just had tea…_

"I'm sorry for the wait. Kamijou-san, here is your piece of paper."

Kaoru sat down and gently pushed the wrapped box forward to Hiroki. Hiroki's frown unconsciously deepened.

"Ah, well, you see," Kaoru quickly explained, "Father said that I was to give you this, should you ever come here and ask for a piece of paper and a pen brush.

A light blush colored her cheeks this time. "I worried that it was just a dying man's ramblings, so I was surprised when you actually came to call and then asked."

Hiroki's eyes widened in disbelief.

_What is this? Did Sakai-sensei master some sort of samurai magic?_

Kaoru smiled as she moved to take the tea tray from the house help. She then presented it to Hiroki.

"Father also asked me to provide you with this." Kaoru looked searchingly into Hiroki's wide, dark eyes, then she bowed deeply.

"Kamijou-san, thank you very much for coming. This is the final possession of Father's to be given away. Thank you for allowing me to fulfill my Father's last wishes."

Hiroki's throat constricted with overflowing emotions. He found himself unable to speak and merely bowed in return.

Seeing this, Kaoru straightened and for the umpteenth time that afternoon, she smiled. Though this one seemed somehow different: her expression held a new look of serenity.

"Well, then, I shall leave you now to enjoy my father's garden. Please, make yourself at home, Kamijou-san, and don't rush. Just call out whenever you are done."

Kaoru bowed slightly again before she stood to leave, her house help followed close behind her, closing the screened door. Once Kaoru departed, Hiroki stared at the wrapped box for several minutes, then at the tea tray. His heart raced.

_It can't be... _

_After all these years..._

Hiroki breathed deeply, as a wave of guilt swept over him. _If only I had been brave enough to come and meet Sensei in person so much earlier. If only I had realized sooner... _

A soft breeze brushed soothing fingers against his suddenly sweaty forehead. It also carried the sweet balm of the blooming sakura to his quivering nostrils. Closing his eyes, Hiroki tried to quiet his habitual, internal, self-deprecation. After several minutes he opened his eyes again, his vision clearer.

Reaching long fingers out, Hiroki brushed the dark, wrapping cloth. After gently pushing it aside, he carefully opened the wooden box inside, only mildly surprised to find a piece of paper held in the center of the box. On the left side, there was a pen brush and a jar of dark ink; on the right side, another, wooden box.

Reverently, Hiroki picked up the paper.

As he suspected, it was blank. Something in the back of his spinning mind told him that this was the same paper Sakai-sensei had offered him all those years ago. In fact, the pen brush and the jar of ink (though he thought it would have dried out by now) also seemed to be the same.

_Typical of Sensei. Never one to throw away useless things._

Hiroki's eyes returned to the box and he was surprised to find a collapsible wooden frame beneath where the paper had been.

_Sensei even thought of that. _Hiroki's lips twitched in a small smile.

Removing the frame, Hiroki reveled in its smooth, varnished, wood surface. His brows furrowed anew.

_This was no doubt hand made._

Hiroki swallowed the implications of this alongside his emotions. The two didn't go down his throat easily. Then, shifting his burning eyes to the remaining small box inside the larger one, he pondered what could be waiting within it.

_A book? But the box is too long and narrow for that. A letter? That seems more likely._

With growing curiosity, Hiroki reached for the small box and opened it. His heart stopped.

There, safely cushioned on dark-blue velvet, was a brand new calligraphy brush.

Hiroki gripped the box tightly, fearing his stunned fingers might drop it. He lifted the brush and stroked down the polished bamboo handle: the brush too was obviously crafted by hand.

He examined the fibers, wondering if they might be deer tail, but a feathering of his fingertips across their soft surface told him they were of a higher quality fur.

_This is sable…_

While pen brushes were used widely in common daily practice and also in calligraphy, a brush such as the one in this other box was of an entirely different caliber. The sharp tip of pen brushes made the use easier to produce quality writing. With its stiffness, one could avoid sloppy strokes, at least to a certain extent.

Real brushes, however, offered no such luxury. The thick but soft tip would need determination and precision to maneuver. Writing with it would require high concentration and a tranquil mind.

_Sable especially, its texture is so silken._

Hiroki's hands trembled. His body too, soon began to tremor, unable to contain his stifled emotions any longer. He was overwhelmed having just learned of his old sensei's enduring affection towards him over the years, and now of Sakai sensei's display of trust through the challenge in the choice of writing implements.

Knowing what he must do, Hiroki took the brush out of the box and held it tightly.

_I didn't know, Sensei. I couldn't… but if only I had..._

Stirred by the spring breeze, a long-forgotten memory rose to the front of his mind.

* * *

><p>"But, Sensei, why aren't you taking down my nameplate? I'm not a member anymore." Ten-year-old Hiroki asked in desperate confusion.<p>

He'd felt badly about leaving the dojo without removing his nameplate from the wall and had returned a week after to request Sensei to remove it.

Sakai-sensei gazed down into troubled, dark eyes. "Do you still remember what I said when you hung that plate?_"_

"Yes, Sensei."

Hiroki recited Sensei's speech.

"_Not every member can have their name on the wall. Only those who truly understand the path of sword and use it for greater good." _

Although it hurt his pride, Hiroki added, "But obviously I have failed you. I don't deserve to have my name on the wall."

Hiroki hung his head, ashamed of yet another failure.

"You undervalue yourself again, Kamijou. Those who understand _The_ _Way of the Sword_ does not necessarily mean they must always wield a sword. Those who understand the path of the Sword are those who understand what a sword can do. It can protect. Or it can destroy.

"Those who follow _The Way of the Sword_ treat the swords with respect. They will not lie to the sword. You spoke your truth, Kamijou."

Dark eyes looked up at the unusually kind tone in Sakai-sensei's voice. His teacher met his gaze evenly. Then Sakai's eyes flickered over to the open door of the dojo, alighting on the back of a pale-haired figure sitting out on the porch, hunched over an open notebook.

In a flash, Sensei's eyes returned to his young student. His look held an intensity Hiroki had never seen before.

"Yes, you let the sword go. You say you have chosen instead, _The Way of the Word._ But listen to me, Kamijou… This does not mean you're not a warrior." Sakai-sensei gaze held Hiroki's widening eyes.

"Which is mightier? In the end, who can say? The Word holds the same powers, neh? But like the Sword, to be honorable, it must be wielded in truth.

"It will be up to you, how you use your tool of choice… What you do with your hand."

Hiroki found himself dropping his eyes again from the over-bright light in Sakai-sensei's.

He felt his cheeks begin to burn, knowing that his instructor was trying to impart some vital truth to him and intuiting that, while he understood perhaps part of what the man was saying, he could not yet comprehend the fullness of the admonition.

In a rare move, Hiroki felt a calloused hand suddenly under his sharp jaw and his face was lifted with an unknown tenderness. The light in his sensei's eyes had not dimmed, but its brightness was now suffused with a strange sorrow.

"It is my hope that your heart will remember your training here. That you will learn that some paths may look like that of the Sword or the Word, but in truth they are not: only dead ends and treacherous trails to inevitable destruction.

"But I have great confidence that someday you will know the true _Way of the Word_ and follow it. It will be a higher but harder path, yet I am sure you can navigate it with your brush and your words.

"You will learn to cherish the past, appreciate the present, and write for the future.

"I hope that when this way seems too difficult, rather than divert to easier roads, paved with desire and destruction, you will hold fast and continue the ways of wisdom and creation.

"As long as you seek the true paths of the Sword and the Word, you will have a place here.

"This is your home still and you will bring it honor by living up to your name, Ka-mi-jou Hi-ro-ki."

* * *

><p>Alone on the deck in Sakai-sensei's garden, Hiroki openly broke down, tears flowed freely down his cheeks at this unbidden memory: his last conversation with Sensei before that of the burnt tree.<p>

_I had forgotten that. _

_He knew of me all along, even then. And yet…_

_I despised myself for so long I couldn't remember. But you remembered for me, didn't you, Sensei? _

Hiroki started when he felt a soft brush against his thigh. He looked over to see the garden cat had joined him on the deck and was pushing its striped head willfully against his best trousers.

He made no move to shoo the animal away however, nor did he need to. As soon as his eyes fell on the cat, it looked up at him. Its unblinking eyes were unusually dark. With a solemn expression, the cat met his gaze.

Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Hiroki watched as the tabby straightened and with a dignified pace, moved over to the far corner of the deck. It turned and sat then, facing him. Its eyes held him intently, its long tale curled round its haunches in front of its feet.

Only the tip of the cat's tail moved now. It tapped patiently against the deck's cedar planks, waiting.

Hiroki left off looking at the animal and his eyes returned to the brush still held in one of his hands.

_A million of times in past years I asked why I was carrying on with life. Why I continued to endure. _

As Hiroki's mind played through what seemed like an endless reel of moments from the years of his painful, unrequited love to Akihiko, he knew now that there was something more than just his stubborn Kamijou pride that had carried him through.

Despite his best intentions, tears welled again in Hiroki's eyes. Head bowed once more, he watched one drop after the other silently fall and stain the worn planks of the deck beneath him.

Anger, relief, sadness, happiness, hatred, and love: all these emotions welled simultaneously in his heart and suddenly his broad chest felt far too small. A blush formed on Hiroki's cheeks when he realized that the last time he cried like this was that rainy night in the library, just after Nowaki had returned from America.

Hiroki suddenly realized how tightly he was gripping the calligraphy brush in his hand, and quickly loosened his hold. He didn't want it to break. Staring silently down at the brush, he knew somehow, that this particular instrument was made by Sakai-sensei.

Despite his dripping nose, Hiroki was suddenly aware of the mixed scents of altar incense, fresh earth, and sakura. These mingled together in a sensory symphony with the solemn clink and clank of the bamboo fountain.

As the emotional tumult that likewise had gripped him so tightly, faded, Hiroki's chest was slowly filled with a new sensation. He felt his Sensei's presence embodied in the ever-beautiful garden. Hiroki swept his eyes around the grounds again and a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

_I met Nowaki in a garden too…. Of sorts, anyways._

At last his dark eyes returned to the deck. They fell upon the cat once more. But for the tip of its tail, it hadn't moved since taking up its new post. The two stared at one another and then, Hiroki was shocked as one of the cat's eyes closed a moment, before resuming its unblinking stare.

_Did that cat just wink at me?_

Hiroki's lips twisted a bit more.

The garden's quiet atmosphere had finally, fully, seeped into his heart. A_gain_.

After one last pass with the back of his hand at his drying eyes, he straightened and adopted a formal seated position. Carefully, he took the ink jar from the box, opened this and set it to his side. He unfolded the small frame and used it to press down the edges of the paper, securing it. Then with a deep breath, Hiroki dipped the tip of the calligraphy brush into the ink.

His hand trembled a little at first, but, unlike the last time his Sensei challenged him to take up his brush, Hiroki knew that this time it would be different.

Another deep breath and Hiroki laid down the mark of his first character. After this, it was not easy, per se, but his motions were fluid: the strokes were deep and precise, his hand steady, and his mind clear.

There was only one word he could offer his Sensei to relay his journey in _The Way of the Word_.

_Advance._

Hiroki looked at the finished Kanji. He smiled a little, recognizing the subtle softness in certain parts and determination in others. Setting the brush to the side, he sat back. Having already used the frame as a weight, he traced the character lightly again.

While the ink was drying, Hiroki turned to the tea tray. Brushing his hand against the side of the ornamental teapot, his brow furrowed. He lifted the lid of the pot to see that actually, instead of tea, there was only cold water inside.

A light snort of pleasure escaped him.

On that day when his fourteen year-old self sought refuge here in this garden, he had proceeded with the water "tea ceremony" routine to humor his teacher. He now did the same, only this time his every movement was dedicated to showing respect for Sakai-sensei.

The lovely ornamental cup Kaoru-san had chosen held just below his slightly smiling lips, Hiroki glanced over to his feline sentinel, still watching him. He gave the cat a gentle nod, then he bowed his head and his eyelids slowly dropped.

_Sensei, this is Kamijou Hiroki. Your useless student. I am sorry that it has taken me so long. I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long. _

Hiroki's tears had stealthily returned; they weighted the corners of his eyes.

_I am fine now. No, the truth is, I am more than fine. I am... happy._

A new blush filled Hiroki's cheeks.

_Please don't worry about me anymore. Not that I'm saying you ever did worry about me. _

Hiroki couldn't keep his small smile from further teasing his mouth. He touched the rim to his lips. He inhaled and could smell the sweet life contained in the water

On the outside, the ceramic had been warmed by the sun. Hiroki sipped his "tea" slowly. The coldness of it was refreshing after his extended time under the clear spring sky.

_Thank you, Sensei. Thank you very much._

Hiroki set down the cup and raised his gaze to the tree.

_Please be happy too there. I will carry on with your legacy._

The soft breeze teasing the sakura petals was the answer to Hiroki's prayer. Looking away, his chest filled with a never before experienced sense of peace, he noticed that the cat had vanished: slipped silently off, back into the garden's grasses.

_Or perhaps somewhere else._

* * *

><p>That night, back at home, tucked into tangled linens, Hiroki held Nowaki close.<p>

He had surprised his younger partner in their coupling with both his fierceness and his tenderness.

Against his cooling chest, Hiroki clasped Nowaki tightly. A dark head was tucked beneath his chin, strong arms wrapped around him. Running a hand down his lover's lean side, Hiroki could feel the slick of Nowaki's sweaty skin, the lingering rapidity of his breathing.

The weight of Nowaki's exhausted body pressed to his, anchored Hiroki. He could feel the strong steady beat of Nowaki's heart.

_It matches my own._

Fighting his embarrassment, Hiroki reluctantly let loose one arm. He stroked long fingers silently along Nowaki's jaw, then caught his chin and gently raised his partner's dark head. Nowaki's expression was mildly drunken, slightly sleepy too, but his lips were curled into a smile and his face glowed with contentment.

Hiroki said nothing. Nowaki too remained silent. But looking deep into Nowaki's luminous, dark eyes, no words were needed for Hiroki to know what his partner was telling him.

_These eyes, the way they look at me... They never change. _

Once again, Hiroki reveled, awe-struck, in the immense love, affection, and admiration contained in Nowaki's blue-black gaze.

_I am truly blessed._

An unexpected vision suddenly obscured Nowaki's sweet face from Hiroki for a moment.

He saw himself, immensely old, wizened, hobbling into a garden, a striped cat pacing along at his side as he went to count one hundred blooms on Sakai-sensei's burnt bonsai.

Then his eyes cleared and Hiroki saw Nowaki staring at him with a slightly puzzled expression.

"Hiro-san?"

Still saying nothing, Hiroki leaned his head forward so that Nowaki couldn't see how glossy his eyes had suddenly become. He pressed a kiss to Nowaki's forehead.

Nowaki's eyes fell shut and he sighed as both Hiroki's arms returned to his cooling skin, enfolding him in warmth, gathering him closer, tighter.

* * *

><p><strong>Than you so much for reading this wonderful piece of Panda's. I hope it touched you as deeply as it did me. Please consider leaving our shy bear a review. I know that they bolster her immensely.<strong>

**Peace, **

**Cerberus**

**Additional AN: **

**The bit about Hiroki drinking cold water is Sakai-sensei's twist on the practice of "drinking tea from an empty cup." I found a bit of writing on this idea and it seemed particularly applicable to this story:**

_**Becoming an Empti-Full Cup:****  
>A Personal Practice for Doulas<strong>_

_by Pam England_

_When a Zen Master meets a new student, there is a tea ceremony. Tea is poured into the student's small hand-held cup until he or she gives a small gesture to indicate "enough, thank you." _

_A long time ago there was a mind-full, accomplished, self-certain monk who arrived at a temple for training. The Master poured tea. The young monk gestured and gestured to stop pouring, but the Master kept pouring tea until the cup overflowed. Why?_

_The Master explained, "When you arrived, your cup was already so full, there was no room for new. Empty your cup. . ."_

_The "empty cup" becomes a powerful metaphor for personal practice. The "cup" represents your Heart, senses, or mind. At every moment, the Holy, Life itself, wants to pour Itself into you, into your "cup." When your "cup" is full of your ideas, plans and judgments, there is less room to receive the Holy, the unexpected seeing, Light, or gifts the moment is offering._

_It becomes a living practice to consciously "empty your cup," again and again and again. The cup fills up easily; we want to fill it with the tea we "like." It takes fierce courage to choose Love over being right or comfortable. It takes a commitment and courage to be empty, open, and receptive. It takes courage to hold out your empty cup to receive something new and unexpected, including what seems to us the dark, not-so-sweet side of the Mystery of Life. _

_The practice of drinking tea in-awareness teaches us how to live fully awake in our bodies, senses and breath. It can be a vital training for a doula aspiring to be mindful in her work. This is a poem I wrote:_

_feeling the cup in my hands warm _  
><em>as tea is poured into it, <em>  
><em>smelling the aroma of the tea <em>  
><em>as I raise the cup to my lips and breath-in <em>  
><em>the moment tea and body meet<em>  
><em>on my tongue there is an awareness of taste <em>  
><em>(without preference or judgment for the flavor)<em>  
><em>and blessed awareness that <em>  
><em>drinking tea<em>  
><em>tea becomes my body <em>  
><em>and my Life. . .<em>

_**As a doula, the metaphor of holding out your empty cup becomes a powerful, personal living practice.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Source:<strong>_**www. birthing from within empti_full_cup (take out spaces)**


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